sometimes,
sleep comes easy
it takes you a little sly
resting your bones after what felt like
the longest marathon I've never take on
it's only a matter of time
before we hear the little shatters
and we'd be wrinkling through the days
tugged under sheets
warring against bed sores every morning
bungled over
if it's just you
sitting through the stage of senescence
or simply,
silently still keeping pace
on soft little romance
of an old love
-a.
YOU ARE READING
littlemisscloud writes
PoetryMy collection of original poetry writings where I'd write way past my bedtime.
