What Others See

You come back from hiking.  I was beginning to worry.  Night had fallen and you’d been climbing for so long.  You smiled at my fairytale.  You read, again, the the day’s edits to my poetry.  As you leave my space you say:  “You are morbid in a way I can’t define.”  Our eyes meet and we begin a slow laughter as we kiss.  How odd!  I’ve never thought of myself as morbid.

Ellespeth

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