see the last two stars get scattered out of the morning's sky.
The pillow gets pressed against your face. I pull my hair
into a pony-tail; turn toward the floor. This day is already
impossible. You lean in for a kiss. Straddling the side of
me. Hip bone to pelvis. I capture your bottom lip between
my dirty teeth. Bite down. I don't know. Twisting, you fold
yourself back into sleep. I throw my eyes open. Settle my
sights on that awkward picture of us, crooked. Against the
cream-colored wall. No one throws my mornings off like
you do.
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