My habit rested in his limbs and called it sleep-
But I knew it as home.
It chased me for hours into a light I found cold
My fear was I’d not know warm again.
He was a smell sweet like pain and everything clean
Morning teased in the distance
And our flirtation with the sun
masked our shame.
It continues to take more effort not to love him
Than loving him ever did.
-still
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