No Blueberries

Burrowed beneath
soft faded sheets
from the morning light
yearning to stay
protected by
the night’s blanket
thieving your warmth
borrowing your right arm.

A bowl of fruit:
Chopped apple,
(no blueberries),
as fruit salad should be
coaxes me awake.
I’m not hungry
I don’t want to move
I don’t want to be
by a sunrise
but how can I turn down
a bowl of fruit
when you remembered
no blueberries?

An Americano:
Four shots of espresso,
no milk,
one sugar –
brown sugar.
No one else
can ever remember
An awkward order,
never awkward
to you.

With the coffee
and fruit
you give my hand
a squeeze
and my nose
a kiss
and you heave
the sheets
from me.
With open curtains
in oozes
the light
to set your eyes

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