DREAM HOME

I wake in a green leather chair

vaguely remembering you tried

to wake me hours ago.

 

You are asleep upstairs,

sleeping on your side,

blanket covering only your feet,

a nude a painter

might trade his soul for.

Your lamp is lighted so I can find you,

though I’m unable to master the code

of the dream you’re having.

 

Together, we have become lonely again.

 
 
 
 
 

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