friday
waking up next to you
and twenty years of sleep feels pointless
until my alarm clock has freckles
and lips like cocaine bubblegum
making coffee I won’t drink
(I’m going back to sleep)
just to feel your hips behind me
the right combination
of cigarette smoke
and Eileen Myles poetry
smells like honey from a bear
I am fading in your arms again
waking up next to you
and twenty years of sleep feels pointless
One thought on "friday"
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Absolutely beautiful!