A Typically Unusual Night

By Anaelle

The hum of the computer
A glow from the TV
Where voices are a tad too loud
A backdrop of cars
Driving against wet pavement
My fingers were cold in yours
Though palms were kept warm
A light drizzle is barely heard
Above your sleepy breathing
Silky lips under fingertips
And I wonder why I never felt them before
A rest after shared pleasure
In a messsy apartment
But neither of us care
About the man outside
Talking to himself at 1am
Or about work the next morning
Six whole hours from now
I don't care
What tomorrow will bring
Idly watching my fingers disappear
(Four day old, chipped nail polish)
In the folds of your t-shirt
I only know
How your own fingers feel
Brushing through my strands of hair
As messy as they are
You don't care about that either
I only know
How soothing the sounds of cars are
Late at night, when sleep disappears
The secret patterns that rain makes
When no one cares to look, but us
And I only hear -
The sound of your heart
Drumming out beats against my ear
And I think, how cynically romantic
That I'm the only person
Who's probably ever listened
To the very thing that keeps you alive
Then I realize...
It's going to be a long drive home

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Published on Thursday, December 20, 2001.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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