Wednesday, December 8, 2010


He slides slowly into bed, bones aching from the toils of the day.
She lays down on the couch, head resting near the empty bottles.
They huddle close together, as the wind blows against the thin walls.

He flips off the lights and dives deep into his mass of covers.
She puts down her book and rolls over into sleep.
They fall close, and speak softly of their day.

He walks the streets, looking for a place to rest his head.
She stares at the screens, with six hours to go.
They drive on, blinded by approaching headlights.

And he rose, sunlight creeping through the windows.
And she rose, her head hammering.
And they rose , heading out for another day.


a thinker said...

This sounds vaugly familiar...

Kaitlin said...

I can see why you had a conversation about this last night, it's really quite good, dear. Thanks for asking me to check your blog, I enjoyed it.