Waking up without you is as impossible

as waking up with you is too,

since waking seems most irresponsible

to all of the love we’ve made so soon.

For if we were to lie in bed

for all our lives we’d only spend

giving head, in heads, our head

wouldn’t be so drenched, enviously portend

weaker links, broken curls, and tired sins.

Since we still proceed to rise, let me speak

of tired times, filled with lover’s eyes sans

the cries for love’s demise, all-in-a-blink:

My love remains in any ‘stance,

prepared for frivolity or romance.

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