watching you sleep
i rifle through a box of bullets
and it kills me to know
that a soar throat
is keeping me from kissing you,

we have among us, secrets,

some things never change
while other things go on
without remembrance,

deli is still short for delicatessen
and lest ye forget
love is still short for allover,

though last night we dreamt like authors
moving headlines across bedspreads,
this morning we pine like widows
unsure of what the other is or was thinking.

09/19/2005

Posted on 09/20/2005
Copyright © 2024 Frankie Sanchez