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Fresh From Dreaming

In the pale gray hours of the morning when the sky is lightly dipped in ink and I am fresh from dreaming, I lie awake and search my ceiling for the outline of your face. I find it woven in my curtains and etched into my door. You are folded in my blankets and gleaming in the weak sunlight through my window. The words from nights before float between us I remember you.

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Published: Feb 13, 2014
LinesWords: 1373

Notes: I woke up thinking about someone the other day.

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