lonely with your company

When the door closes,
a mechanical humming fades away
and your wheels crunch a goodbye. I won’t lie
it feels like cinders falling as snow would,
just enough to make you think there might not
be school tomorrow.And when time
is so golden you lock it away from negativity,
worries or droll conversation. You keep
those things tucked away for a rainy day.
You don’t really get to be honest
about the way the air is dense with coal dust,
canary yellow, sweet songs precede the storm.
How could I paint the shining hours with
tar, dripping black over the edge because
we don’t have long left
and I can’t pretend I don’t dream about
waking next to you, your sleeping pout,
or just some time to breathe in line
with the way your eyes crinkle, fine.
Maybe I am childish in the way I’m used
to nights where my matress dips heavy
or mornings made of breakfast, bright songs
and off key voices to sing along.
How do you tell somebody
just how very much you ache
for a safe monotony?

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