Kate had butterflies in her stomach. Tonight was the nativity play; everything they'd rehearsed for the last month. Kate knew her lines and her song. She was fine with that. The problem was, they ... [+]
Soft silk sheets slip from my skin.
It’s morning.
It’s mildly unpleasant the way memory of night still lingers
Much like I do now in bed.
The sun’s brilliance wanes.
Cool skin against cream sheets.
At times it crests, welling
Much like the memory of you.
“That doesn’t matter when you're horizontal,” he’d tell me
A pillow tumbles to the floor.
I unravel
Much like the braid in my head.
Fingers tense and release.
I place your echo under covers
And I float to sleep.
It’s morning.
It’s mildly unpleasant the way memory of night still lingers
Much like I do now in bed.
The sun’s brilliance wanes.
Cool skin against cream sheets.
At times it crests, welling
Much like the memory of you.
“That doesn’t matter when you're horizontal,” he’d tell me
A pillow tumbles to the floor.
I unravel
Much like the braid in my head.
Fingers tense and release.
I place your echo under covers
And I float to sleep.