Dawn, circa 2013

In the mute hours of dawn
The air carefully paints us blue
Outside us a city of ghosts blinks slowly
I watch

the calm intrusion of soft light
Mould your face into invisible halves
Your shoulders separate your hair
into streams that flow over the crumpled bedsheet
Asking for their ends
To be disturbed

Curtains come close, then withdraw
In regular breaths
voices of a new morn
grow fainter, I hear the numbness of your blood
The growing rhythm of thought against touch
The fastening of desire
The proximity of space and skin

While the mismatched texture
Of rough hands against soft
Merge perfectly.



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