I hold my breath.
Watching in the new sun’s glow,
as it shows me the lines of your smooth brown back.
I clutch this morning silence,
tight,
like a ring box.
I hold my breath.
Because soon you will wake,
roll to meet me,
The musk of your dreams
will pour over me ,
your eyes will open,
exploding green against your cocoa skin.
And for an awful instant,
I will see reflected there,
who I was too you,
before I broke us,
before…
When life was still tousled hair and crooked morning smiles
Drinkers with Writing Problems 
I like the story it tells. Great piece.
Thanks. The other folks in our group often accuse me of being a short winded storyteller.
Being a storyteller makes you unique. My mind spins stories too, some of my poems ended up as short stories.
Well done!
Such sadness expressed here. I am captivated but sad for your lost yesterdays.
Cheers, I have succeeded.
This becomes my new favourite! :’)
Well written.
That’s a big deal to me. Thank you