I wake to see you have rolled away.
You sleep with your face pressing the quilts folds,
I stare at you through sore eyes and let you stay
Lying there, so still and so clearly cold,
And living with what we have been told.

Something, that one thing, scares me.
I love what lies inside you,
But hate what lives there too.
Wanting not to live as I, but as we.

I sneak up close beside you in bed,
To stroke and hold your balded head.
I embrace you in my warm living arms,
Kissing your forehead to wake you instead,
And lay with your body, silent and so calm.

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