Online Romance Asleep On Kelly Street
When you go, leave me your number, although I'll never
call. I will stuff it in a box while I weather out the
fall, and I'll stuff that box up in the closet on a shelf
that will prove to be a test on empty afternoons when
longing crawls its way into my chest. Hidden underneath
my blanket, a sleeping bag's unrolled, and all throughout
the winter it'll keep me from the cold. I'll cocoon my
tiny frame inside and wait to generate some heat, and
soon I will be warm and sound asleep, apart, on Kelly
Street. Soon the sun will come up quicker with the coming
of the spring, though I won't be up to meet it, as my
still-sleeping alarm won't ring. When I wake I will turn
over to see the blinds leaving shadows on my bed and I'll
see your sleeping eyes as a mirage in my groggy head.
I'll just be waiting on the summer so I can push these
sheets aside; and though each year I just get dumber, I
hope this time I will abide; and though so vivid are the
details, like that silly smirk that used to spread across
your face, my heartbeat will admit nothing through the
posture of its pace.