deepundergroundpoetry.com

When I'm quiet

"Keep it simple."      
He whispers beneath sheets.      
"Just once." A simple response...    
     
we      
fall into bed by ten    
and stumble across memories there.    
     
I set a glass of cold water on the side      
and turn out the light.    
He pulls me in, a cage of arms.    
     
There's a sleep-shirt involved, until it is removed,    
and I curl closest to the door in case fidgiting commences (which it will.)      
and there's need to move.      
     
The man doesn't mention he might not entirely resent the company.    
I don't mention that he's the creator of nerves.    
The fallen jaw tells me one of us is asleep while I toss and turn until closed eyes look open.    
     
I'm worn from hormones    
and he's worn out from breasts    
though there's satisfaction in it.    
     
The morning comes with a loud alarm and    
another sky of white. Another light against a palette of grey.      
All I want, and I think, for a moment, he does too    
     
is to stay    
somewhere warm, with someone warm.    
When the needs are fulfilled and the fidgiting is done  
   
I am still not ready to add another nail to the coffin.  
There's an entire world outside    
of more important things to do.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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