I Learned to Sleep.
Your yesterday scent on my pillow is thick, like bacon on Sunday.
I breath the parts of you in that still linger on the case.
My fingers resting numb on my hip.
As I glance down at the white of your release still kissing the orange fitted sheet.
Behind my knee.
Tonite, I learned to sleep,
To dream again.
I find myself sprouting new roots,
As you propagate me, and I tangle myself around you.
Like a succulent.
My brown, no longer brown.
But pink, red, green.