A Pillow Case of Mistaken Identity


 

 

While he snored through tinkling wind chimes,

I awakened quite vexed,

Reeling from nightmares

Burning tangerine like the summer sun,

My rollers askew on the bed,

Cheeks fused with our wet spot.

 

Long I lay nude beside him,

Hurt and perplexed,

Struggling to recall the last time —

A distant rhapsody from lips to limbs —

That he’d shuddered inside me

Without uttering her name.

 

 

 

© 2012 Chantale Rêve

All Rights Reserved

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