a(n)other morning ode to her

in the quietest
part of
the morning
when the world
is still
except for
the poets
and thieves
as the sun sits
just beneath
the horizon
as the sky
from black to
shades of
ultraviolet wonder
while the coffee
brews in
sputtering drips

my heart screams
your name
so loudly
i fear to wake
the neighbors
to startle
the sleeping birds
in the bushes
with the thunderous
spelling out
your name
in morse code
along my chill
trembling limbs
a cardiac cacophony
the feel of
your flesh
pressed so tightly
against mine

i whisper my
love for you
into every shell
so the ocean
takes on
the cadence of
my pulse
so that every
carries the words
from my lips
to settle across
your sleeping form
as the
thieves and poets
sip coffee
seeking beauties
that can never
to you

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