Sunday, February 1, 2009

Con Canela

the last thought
to caress
at my mind
before I surrender to
the embrace of slumber.

I don't wait
for you with longing
just a sort of
that's bred by your
sudden, easy
familiarity. You can
become addicting, but I'd like
to insist you're not.

I think
I might simply find
rare comfort in your
eye-pleasing visage.

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