Strangers Poem by Margy Crumb

Strangers



we're friends in the morning
but at night we don't know each other.
i'm sound asleep,
wearing her sweater;
she's still awake at 3am,
throwing up in my bathroom.

i wake up just in time to see her come back in
and put her toothbrush away in her overnight bag.
she crawls back under the covers,
breath fresher,
like nothing ever happened.

Monday, September 7, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: sickness,small
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