The Last Time

It was the perfect kind of morning.

Standing in the hot fog
of a shower that's lasting too long.

Dress quickly, in the dark.
Don't wake him, be quiet.
Lean in for the quick kiss goodbye,
on his sleeping head, then he'll lift the blankets
inviting you in. Half lay. Only for a moment.
Just long enough to feel him tense in reaction to
your wet hair on his warm half asleep chest.

No time for little spoons,
there's a whole world waiting

On the outside.

Brilliantly sunny, blinding you
as the light just began to reach over the buildings.

Cold, so much so that
any exposed skin ached.



And it was the last time.

That there would be notecards about geography
and course packs and everything you needed
for classes and hand-written final exams
filling your backpack
sloshing around next to your iced tea.
Caffeine for 8am trips to the library.