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By Cyan Date: 2002 Jul 17 Comment on this Work [[2002.07.17.21.32.28463]] |
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On an early morning you rise above yesterday. You lay still for a quiet moment. I trace your face with wanting fingers, hoping to find an open page in your thoughts. Nothing comes from your voice except faint whispers and I think to myself how little I know about the cold man lying in my bed. You turn over in the sheets, forcing me to face a broad back and another blank page. All I can do now is try to write myself into your heart and into a story I know nothing about. |