Your sheets are soft, and so is your voice, when you’re done with me, discipline disappearing underneath discussion, as you stroke my hair, eyes where your hands once were, with soft kisses joining them when I fall asleep.

I still reach for rivers of gold, slivers of silver, when I am half asleep, but, he is gone. Blue eyes, banished, as I bandage myself with time, and sleep, pouring with pity, blueberry sunset, seeing the day we met, and a tornado of time since, how he destroyed my world, putting it back together…

She says really pointless things, or so he says, but it’s an art! Apparently, it’s an art! Art and cruelty, so he says, art and cruelty, but she thinks it’s so essential, and she thinks he speaks no sense, but he tries, or so he says, and she lies, when she says she doesn’t care.…