Silence Is A Kind Of Conversation

Her kisses are the perfect reason to stay in bed,
bar the door, close the windows and
drown out the world with our favorite shows on Netflix
and casual substance abuses.

She’s dangerous, holes in her pj’s and Medusa in her hair
while she’s changing a vapor and
complaining about her sister.

On weekdays I’m on a stay-cation,
babysitting beers and cursing at the idiots
May mentions.

Neck deep in her neck, finger ready
on the pulse of a curve I know is a trigger.
And in my heart of hearts, I think,
this is the perfect family.

(Until we actually had one.)

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