Gradually
in one hundred and forty-nine dollar clouds
I awaken.
Pale ivory fluff
fit for a queen (truly)
for her castle in the sky.
Lined with silken snow and so soft
it’s almost sinful.
I turn my head to gaze
at my peaceful cohabitant,
but he has concealed himself
within our Arcadia.
A smooth, russet neck,
a mess of black spikes
peek from beneath
the pale, puffy mass.
He is less than an arm's length away,
still too far,
Surrounded by abstract paintings of the sea
pale and dark blue swirls contrasting
the pearly barriers of our world.
Our clothes in mountainous heaps
underneath us,
neglected lighters and shoes
yearning to meet their other half.
We lie high above the carpeted floor
high above everyone and everything else—
Ethereal like Cythera.
About the Creator
Alondra Adame
I wrote a lot and now I write a little.
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