I was thinking how it must feel to see that little light

[dismal_star]

POETRY WORKSHOP SAMPLE #1

Like sandpaper to a
smooth coat of paint
your cheek(scratchy,scruffy)
against mine is as
destructive as sandpaper
in the early morning hours
of this tiny bed.
As if it were an alarm,
(oh so alarming it seems)
I rise. How did I-we-you
get here, sleeping?
(the most intimate of trusts)
I wonder. Do you?
(no.)
Defeated, sanded away,
my heavy(heart)head
returns to the pillow--
to your cheek--
& I think this is
more than a nap.