Kitchen Dreams

Rewind to 24 hours ago,

Unwind like you did, last night,

Drunk off wine and a feverish delirium. 

No sex, just sleep, you say. 

So we do. 

When you leave, my sheets reek

with your sleepy affection.

 

That next night, I am left

in an eyes-wide-open dream state,

My face sunken into my pillow,

memorializing a brief week’s fleeting affair.

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I dreamt of bare toes on a kitchen floor,

With fresh-cut flowers on the table. 

The air smells like apple pie and cologne.

Their hair smells like the feeling of coming home.

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