Melting

It must
be in the dream
I had.
That I saw
your pink toes
prickle

There were
no mirrors,
maybe felt
reflections
that crawled

(into the duvet) .

Your breath
still echoes in
my ears, twisted
in my hair.
Awake
on the
bed

Your smile
crumbles into
the sun,
sinks into
sleeves.
Monday, December 10, 2007
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