Watching the sun slip its fingers
along the next building’s skin
I wonder how it shines on you,
how blinding those last breaths
of the day choked blue and purple.
We spend such little time together,
that yellow orb and I, it’s embrace
as foreign to me as my breath to you
at day’s dark end, our meeting time
winding down the last moments
before the clock finds itself true
once more in the depth of sleep,
every minute until your next smile
a labor as severe as Heracles’ own.
My reward? The warmth of a smile,
that familiar smell of skin waking,
and the welcome hands of the day.



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