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Tea on a coffee table

 


and what I mean
by it’s not you, it’s me
is every minute    
tangles cold bedsheets    
forming an impossible    
white noose    

what I mean
by I crave more time  
is I quietly stare
into breakfast’s blue jug    
seeing only a spectre    
of your face    

what I mean  
by I wanna be yours    
is I imagine what    
the living must be like—    
that peace of falling asleep    
waking exactly where you are  



Written by Northern_Soul (-Missy-)
Published
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