arriving home I tip-toe to your room
the light's out, no sound just black
I twist the handle trying to be quiet
and push the door slightly open a crack
I turn on the light to watch you sleep
listening to your breathing; heavy
my intoxicated instinct is weakened
and I climb into the bed with you
lifting carefully, gently the covers off
you don't stir but you turn to face me
your arm drapes unconsciously, slowly across
and you moan softly deep in sleep
I study your eyes closed, lips pursed
I lie for what seems an hour or two
and sigh at the beauty of you dreaming
before falling asleep beside you
Sunday, October 5, 2008
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memories & previous plans
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2008
(181)
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October
(25)
- A Looking Glass
- The Prisoner Of Cynicism
- Hold Steady, Love
- You're Growing Hope And It Sells
- Your October Coat
- Priorities
- I Lied About Nine Thirty Five
- Wild Years
- The Presence Of Love
- You're A Coward For Words
- What Common Denominator?
- The Weight Of A Piece Of Paper
- Love Knows No Long Distance
- Let's Hope It Lasts
- How You Get In My Head When Drunk
- The Heat Of The Moment
- You Don't Wear Your Wedding Ring?
- We Didn't Fit From The Beginning
- No Excavation Of Feelings From The Chase
- To Say 'I Love You' Isn't Warranted
- Whilst You Were Dreaming
- Maturity Sees The Glue The Past
- Tattoo Two
- You're Billboard Boyfriend Material
- Spare Empty Chair
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October
(25)
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