This circular symmetry of notes
Makes me think about kissing you.
Leaning down to your still sleeping face
To steal a gentle one before
I make my way out in to the world.
Angelically pale. Make up still wet.
Your lipstick tastes waxy
But sweet indeed from these lips.
The ghost of you keeps me company through the day,
Leaping from chair to chair like a child Avoiding imaginary lava or hissing snakes.
Peeking over my shoulder to see me write my name for the thousandth time
You push my hair back over my ear.
In your sleep you wrinkle your nose
And your fringe falls low over your eyes.
The circles of my days
Begin and end with you.
And at night I dream.