Monday, February 27, 2012

sonnet fifty seven

quietly drawn to your
penchant mornings, to your
silence, to the sound of
your dreams and the ache of

your breathing, to the
things you dislike about
yourself - secretly i desire
all mornings be spent with you,

that i be blessed by your
hungered delight and the
truth of your existence,

that you let me stand next
to you to catch the fireflies
that keep you dancing in the dark.

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