Breathings

iPad breathings
And ankle-sock twine
Reading my moves, my chest’s heaving
Only to tell me good morning
At the least likely time
To wake the beast with me
Glowing me awake
In 300-thread count, four-poster dreams
Tiny light strings
Running blind hands along
Leads me to productivity
Fill out that form
Unpack those vacation-scented bags
Done by noon, hardworking old me
Strong and awake and pretty
Gold eyeliner only works
When you’ve been glowed awake

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