If I didn’t sleep, but you stayed with me,
would you say we shared something intimate
or incidental?
I’m not sure that you understood when I spoke
to you.
And I’m not sure I understood what I said
when I didn’t speak.
I can see your eyes and your mouth in front of me,
even before I close my own.
Everything I think about you feels like betrayal.
Posted in musings |
That’s a great photo but your hair’s not orange?