Upon Waking
How do your eyes catch me
those sleepy wee hours
I stir you
as a watercolor caricature
picking through our dismembered socks,
and shirts that still linger
with the taste of your
cologne
where my cup wobbles
slopping joe,
revealing
my true name
(gentle lady)
in the thinly veined blue white graphics.
As you feign sleep
wrapped in a half hazard bundle
mount cotton -
your hand caught across
my pillow, a furry leg there,
and washed by the impending
dawn headlights
of this approaching Monday morning
there is
a moment,
where the loss of my words
paint themselves
across the golden rod walls
in three question marks.
(I Love You)
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