Sitting in bed with
you, back against
the wall,
we talk about
how smoking
cigarettes
is ****
and we laugh
and the 5:30 glow
of soon-to-be-sunrise
floods the wall

it's then you tell me
your stories
your deepest
tragedies
your longings
and your needs
and I can
taste the
whiskey on your
sorrowed tongue

and so I hold
you here,
in my arms,
our shadows changing
shapes in daylight's
advent
where I
want so much to
keep you and we
watch the
sun come up