Love Letter #14: Thoughts When Doing Our Laundry


I could feel your touch when you were far;
the trace of your fingers across my cheeks
and through the length of my hair, when
your voice was all I had to rock me to sleep
in those long evenings waiting for you. In
dreams, we met at the airport, me in my
little black dress, you in those white jeans.
They are both hanging in our closet now,
complimenting each other, just as we do
and I don’t ever have to wait for you again.





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