HOT BED
The gasoline of insomnia
pours over me
while the radiator clicks
behind your headboard.
You are the missing piano
curving into the darkness.
Waiting upon my fingertips
to create sad beauty,
to tussle in silence,
through liquid
and warm breathing.
I will play gently.
Igniting the floorboards.
Filling your room
with a softly accelerating
aspiring glow.
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