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The Place At Dawn

i can see it clearly. i wake up early and look over at you in the clear grey light of morning. you slept in one of my t-shirts and your underwear; your white cotton panties are wrinkled from the sheets. your hair fans across the pillow; some of it still lingers in my mouth. i get out of bed slowly, trying not to wake you. i walk into the kitchen and start the coffee, then to the bathroom, the tile cold under my feet, and splash some water in my face. it sluices down my cheeks, over my chin and into the sink, splashing on my stomach and legs. i'm making a mess; i'll clean it up later. back into the kitchen; the coffee is ready. i pour a cup and sip, blowing across it before i drink. i sit on the floor and open the blinds. i will wait here for sunrise, the tile cool against my skin. i can hear you sleeping in my bed, in my room. i can hear you breathing softly, and i remember feeling your breath warm on my cheek as you dozed off only a few hours ago. i want this moment to last. i want to stay here for a while because i'm not wondering, not hoping, not anticipating. the steaming fluid stings my tongue; like everything, this too will pass, but surely i would be foolish not to enjoy it while it's happening.

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Last modified on Wednesday, March 26, 2008