segunda-feira, 29 de outubro de 2007


pure morning
and a sense of lumination which overcomes
my natural skepticism

I hate mornings
daylight over human features is far too
revealing and far too harsh

the city awakes and quickly bursts
into all sorts of worldly affairs
little things of no interest
best cast aside

I hate mornings
except for this singular moment in which
your soft body lies across the bed
and your dark hand draws circles
at the bottom of my neck
whispering tales and sweet secrets
best not put into words