ella duerme

it’s 3:15am

and you are so beautiful

at peace with this world

curled up in my blanket


transfixed, I seem nothing

like some selfless shadow

silently sustained

by your slow and steady breath


outside I hear the rain

tapping sonnets on the glass

uneven compositions

made sweeter by their imperfection


and I know it is fantasy

too much for our real world

whose strain discards these views

mocking the foolish romantic


still, as you lay inches away

I sense that very next kiss

might rewrite Shakespeare’s tragedy

reviving Romeo as Juliet awakes


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