Chris G. Vaillancourt

Underwear

Time is fading on
Perspective has become
distorted images
in carefully distressed
bottles
I slept beside you.
We were naked.
Hatred.
That word
haunting me
as I sleep.
Morning.
We were not sleeping.
Having coffee and
whispering encouragements
to one another.
I want to sleep beside you.
We will be naked.
The clinging nylon
of the morning escaped
our attention
as we chatted about
our relationship.
Hatred.
That word
haunting me
as I do not sleep.
Evening.
We return to each other.
Time grows shorter.

My life not getting any longer.

I slept beside you
in my underwear.

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Poem Edited: Monday, February 7, 2011

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