Ben Paynter

Rookie - 87 Points (Midwest)

kind of love poem


there is the way
you sleep soundly
by the window with
the moon haphazard
crawling in between
the blinds. I asked you
before falling off to
sleep to please close
them “I can’t sleep
otherwise” I told you
“it’s too bright”, now
I can’t close them, it
would mean waking
the dead, instead I
am looking at old
pictures from the time
you told me, this
wasn’t a forever kind
of thing, now I’m
turning off the light
pulling up the covers
to your chin, thinking
irony, thinking another
February come and
gone, thinking
thinking.

Submitted: Monday, February 15, 2010
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