Starting to focus. Using my mother's strength. 
Converting a wrinkle's shadow into presence. 
I'm noticed. 
More important than working watches. 
New York City closes my eyes. 
Time is now kinder and kinder. 
Close your eyes beautiful. 
You've read every page. 
Skipping whatI read most. 

I swim in your sleep. 
Waking with flushed skin. 
Warm and with night's air included. 

You ask if I'm dreaming. 
With silence, your day begins. 

 Eyeshadow saved for these soiled days. 
The darkness above your eyes, convincing that I am the thief in your purse. 
Awake listening to all. 
Those before me, coming and going. 
And it feels to me, to be the correct way for this. 

I am told you have two hearts. 
One from before and one in your bed. 
Saved for later.