What's Left In The Morning? Poem by Lisa Wilson
What's Left In The Morning?
Lively cheek
pressing into my pillow,
you tell me
it's all over.
Nothing to worry about now.
I shift like marshmallows
a thousand times over.
Yet, it only reminds you
of the couple we
can never be.
Dark, putrid and dank,
life means nothing
without you.
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4/19/2024 2:10:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
