I woke up with sweaty palms this morning.
They were enveloped in yours,
Oven warm and stiff fingered,
Your drool was on my pillowcase.
I wanted to kiss your closed eyelids this morning.
Instead, I snuck my fingers out through yours,
Laid your hand down soft on the beat blue couch,
In your dream you were smiling,
I didn’t want you to realize I wasn’t.
Staring back at my reflection in cold coffee,
Standing on a back porch and
Thinking about your open lips,
Your limbs spread like vines over my own,
April 11, 2017
This is the last month we will share a twin mattress.
Some morning in the future,
It will be someone else’s sweaty palms.
I hope she never wipes them,
And that when she washes her pillowcase,
She smiles at the stains of drool.
I hope she wakes you with laughter,
I hope she kisses you on your open lips,
I hope she makes you happy out of your dreams,
This coffee tastes like goodbyes.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC
I woke up with sweaty palms this morning.
They were enveloped in yours,
Oven warm and stiff fingered,
Your drool was on my pillowcase.
I wanted to kiss your closed eyelids this morning.
Instead, I snuck my fingers out through yours,
Laid your hand down soft on the beat blue couch,
In your dream you were smiling,
I didn’t want you to realize I wasn’t.
Staring back at my reflection in cold coffee,
Standing on a back porch and
Thinking about your open lips,
Your limbs spread like vines over my own,
April 11, 2017
This is the last month we will share a twin mattress.
Some morning in the future,
It will be someone else’s sweaty palms.
I hope she never wipes them,
And that when she washes her pillowcase,
She smiles at the stains of drool.
I hope she wakes you with laughter,
I hope she kisses you on your open lips,
I hope she makes you happy out of your dreams,
This coffee tastes like goodbyes.
