i did find your bed of anger
i slept it it with my face down against the pillows, rank with the smell of your fear
i made the bed of your anger, carefully sliding my hands across the sheets
and you were lying there, prostrate
and i find tears leftover where there should be none,
i drink water when we are no longer thirsty and when i am thirsty i find no drink

but today i see sunlight, and sunlight wipes this bed
clean with its fingers
reaching further than i could ever hope
and hoping deeper than i could ever reach

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