beauty, love, poetry, women

it still gets done

talk until my throat is raw

reading on chill bus seats

writing with the laptop balanced

on my knee

it still gets done

foot rubs, trips to the shop,

emails at odd hours

it still gets done

sleep treated like a cherished friend

slip beneath warm sheets to

open mouthed kisses

seeing the scarlet candied glow of lights

and not being upset by it

it still gets done

almost too much to write about

to tell you

in a warm whisper

coffee and cinnamon on my breath

leaner and hairier than before

bu this, the secret to a life

which still makes of its burdens

i love you

it still gets done

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