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Twilight


Your side of our bed aches

To feel the ease with which

Your long curves slip between the sheets

Your pillow bereft of your breath

No longer sighs under the weight

Of your head as your cheeks

Caress its feathered down

The fetid air yearns to be disrupted by your scent

As you gracefully turn over

Reaching toward me

As the early morning light

Seeps through the shuttered window.

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