The Cave of Hypnos: Early Poems
The Bed
Charles W. Bailey, Jr.
Hollows map
your body
gone.
My body drinks
your fading
warmth.
Your ghost
is mute.
I smoke.
A touch,
did I feel
a touch
of a wrapping
thigh?
Silence deepens.
I sleep.
Night scraps
the window.
The bed
is silent.
Copyright © 2012 by Charles W. Bailey, Jr.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.