Separate Rooms
I want to lie breathless
in your arms—
not alone—
not alone like this.
The night is cold—
and the night is seamless—
indifferent—
it will be night as long
as it shall,
and you will be this shadow
until you rise.
Until then,
that night's peak—
suddenly so alive—
will grab us both—
as we gasp—shocked, together—
in desperately
separate rooms.
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2021
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