found you in my dreams last night
called you "daughter" and
could not sleep nor let go
called you "daughter" and
could not sleep nor let go
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sometime is an illusion
maybe is constantly jealous of, especially at night when anything is possible, and it is refreshing to forget to breathe ©Erin Croley Curious if whiskey and root beer
work better than the mother-wife combo because we are out of Coke and I don't drink soda ©Erin Croley (and yes, I know root beer is a soda) staring at la página en blanco
for weeks a desire to write too equally consumed con ser mamá y esposa to recall what I am doing ©Erin Croley this night
when brilliance slides in and out with the making and remaking of bedsheets I fail again and again to recapture myself ©Erin Croley in this house of pale faces
empty tissue boxes and too-many-tiny-things to do I should have welcomed early sleep but silence (and cookies) are worth the risk ©Erin Croley (from a #capturedpoets Twitter prompt) car doors close
fireworks ignite and this house breathes (so loudly) that I wish for thunder and the calm of distant rains ©Erin Croley (from a #VerseReversal Twitter prompt) From the other room I can hear my son wander across the hall to find my husband in bed. He sleepily asks, "Where's Mommy?" My husband tells him I'm working, and invites him to lay in my spot for a little bit. Instead of scrambling up to take his offer, Z innocently pleas, "But I want her to lay with me."
the close of eyelids should
reveal black, but mine seep grey tints of the day and desire and move time out of my hands ©Erin Croley the space between midnight and morning
elongates as the craving your kiss should have calmed keeps me awake ©Erin Croley |
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