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