breakfast

September 21, 2014 Posted by the writer

breakfast

he tastes like vodka and cigarettes and
morning. with the softest secrets between
our balanced exchange of ask and command,
today begins – setting another scene.
i watched him sleep and listened to him breathe,
flickering eyes, speaking whispers in dreams.
the moment you find your way to believe.
hold faith in your heart and know what it means.
there were rain clouds where the sun should have been,
a cobalt grey sky and cool autumn wind.
answers appear in shape and style of him.
resetting history. spin and rescind.
he turned. i rose. exhale each other. hush…
when feeling consumes. beyond realms of much.

About the writer

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gretchen's brain is preoccupied with words.

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