As dawn breaks, in unison with this heart
Little sounds of you dribble down the gallery
Like pebbles in the stream behind – into my room

As an artist to canvas, in my thoughts, I paint –
Your breast heaving in long, abysmal sighs of content
In cavernous snores of ignorance and bliss

And I – but a wayward ghost in our home
Haunting the very same cracks and crevices

Of which we once played, kissed and cooed

Oh, these days of torrid hades
How I tame them in gelid pools of promise
Half-hoping to decline into their depths

Oh, Ella, with toy in mouth – eyes of innocence
How I envy you of whom slumbers at her feet
The same of which once danced with mine

Go now, sweet one – fetch me her dreams
That spill like vast blankets of adoration for life
So that I may cover myself in her warmth

Lara Wilson

Lara Wilson

Editor at NY Literary Magazine
Lara holds a B.A. in Comparative Literature. She's a native New Yorker, an after-school English tutor, and a bookworm.
Lara loves photography and horseback riding.
Lara Wilson

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