aubed

I tear afresh these limpet limbs from every suckling surface, abandon all the gentleness as the blanket mimics where I impress.

I strip of clothes: a cleaving. the room’s a sty. I’m weaving all these memories and aspirations in the making neat of what’s amess. time to dress.

my body rises like the sun: through exercise I exorcise the darkest of my dreams. I am the needle (I pretend) to all my fraying seams.

one eye at a time and my face breaks slowly to the reality of the matter: bed, I will miss your fabric.

Your honest home for all my flaws was always this: this magic.

---

[Another assignment from my Professor: Write an “aubade”, a poetic form encapsulating the sorrowful farewell between lovers at dawn. I suppose I’ve produced a parody. Sorry, Prof.]