(no subject)

Mar 31, 2012 23:14

coffee

My kisses did not wake you,
so here I sit, downstairs, alone, although you said
you wanted to wake early.
I made the coffee.  It is cooling
on its plate.  After all, I will not drink it.
What signal have I
that you still love me?  You cast me off, aloof,
during the day, but curl into me at night.
In your dreams, anyway, I am still whole.

If I were uglier, the answer would come freely.
I wait for it, alone, as I skip breakfast.
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