Strangers No More


 

We start the night as strangers
in a cold tight bed.

The sun kind enough to hide
us from our exposed backsides:
Two warm walls
in a cold tight bed.

Phantom passion too weak to climb
and unaccustomed to the forced time
of a first night.

Warm slumber upon us;
like siblings we sleep.
Strangers no more.

The sun returns unashamed at what it hears:
Its children’s light snores.

 

Criticism is an act of love. Share your thoughts with me below.

Kill me with your kindness

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: