Alarm sounds as light filters into my dreaming eyes. The other half of the bed is already empty, the door drawing shadow from the life behind it. Feint calls gently echo through the upstairs & down. For this is how we choose to speak, insurance that the other is awake. The couch confession. We smile & assess. Mumbling about the meals we made & people pretending. Was last night better than the night before? It was for we were closer & close.
Our mouths are silenced by the cut up clouds that surround us. Light lifting, the traffic lights are eyes, peering through gathered trees. The cool air staves off the humidity as heavy heaves shift to steps. The edges of our eyes take in colour, mixing covered green with open grey at the horizon. Sun is raised, pushing through strands of white, both volcanic & baking. The only sound we hear are birds, our breath & muted horns running down rail beams.
This is our morning for a few minutes more.