Sleep with you. No, I mean really
sleep. Somewhere, there's this perfect
feather bed with perfect feather pillows
and I think we might find it and we're
scared.
There is so much to talk about but
we're tired, so tired. Tired of taking out
all that garbage, tired of shopping for food
that is just going to rot eventually, even if
we end up eating - so much waste.
So - if you want to know what I want;
I want to sleep with you curled into a ball
hidden away in the crook of your arm
floating somewhere between dusk and dawn
remembering only how good you smell.
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