Tonight,

I would like to watch you sleep.

Watch you drift between

Your shadow and your soul,

Your chest rises and rests

With uninterrupted breaths.

And when

Your hands make home

On my rested hips,

The night becomes ours.

Tonight,

Which may never happen,

In the silence of your voice

I am awake.

Unblinking.

To inhabit your absence

I wrote this.

Cradling the perils of hope,

I bid myself good night.

--

--

--

From Malaysia. A business owner. A painter and a closet poet. Hates roaches.

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Beata Beatrix

Beata Beatrix

From Malaysia. A business owner. A painter and a closet poet. Hates roaches.

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