i awake to warm air brushing across my liquor-laden
lips hoping it's you breathing, leaning in to kiss
my morning into being...only it's not you,
just a product of me leaving the window open
the night before when i pondered jumping
out of it.


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"I loved those poems that seemed so small on the page but that swelled in the mind; I didn’t like the windy, dwindling kind." -Louise Gluck