morning said cold sunday
and all her hopeless smiles
breathing in the quiet of
dissipated yesterdays left
to hush them both beneath
shuddering blankets
bliss gone with dark
undulations vibrant kisses
long overdue and another
reason for neither
to forget again that
brown eyes
should be the
only measure
and finally noon
wraps callused fingers
around the windowsill
anywhere but inside
but also nowhere else
and somewhere else
they huddle to weather
the stormy day waging
war on ephemerized
memories but only
for so long only
for an hour here
or there will they chance to
remember the opportunity
not wasted
loving and hating that
like stories they begin and end
apart