We Don’t Need Matching Pajamas

She snored. I watched
her take the night in
slowly and let it out in a
grunt, curled up tight
against the outside.
Her stomach empty this
evening, unfulfilled
by the books
and words and learning
she hungered for. She
craved thought more
than air, and in the
company of most men,
she damn near asphyxiated
from lack of both. And so
like the night she
exhaled I breathed her in.

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