Saturday, February 4, 2012

Watching You Sleep.

I know what your bed
looks like, firm and
unkempt. I know
your infantile sleeping
habits, half of your
body intertwined with
velvet sheets, muffled
snores upon the spread.
You usually lay on your
back, closing your eyes
lazily to the narrow,
indifferent ceiling, the white
walls humming off all the
sounds, placidly, they
always seem to mollify
you to sleep.

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