while i watch you...

then bending, like chosen changed channels reaches hands outward, a finger on my forehead, brushing the sweaty hair from my face while i trace the shadow made by the television screen across your back and end up laying slowly my head downward and drifting into the blue sleep place where everything cold is carefully laid out and waiting for a smile to break the moon and leave us laughing...the morning is yours.

2004-11-23 | 6:30 p.m.
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