Sunday, September 12, 2010

it is after dark and you are sleeping.

Single words do not often exist for some of the complex emotions that stem out of growing older. The many words for love we do not have. Agape. Eros. Philia. The thoughts we think rarely cease.

Irish tea with milk and agave syrup in the morning. Yellow crimson watermelon and stove-popped pop corn at night. You sleep beside me, and I see you in your silence.

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