That Line
Our nights are different in their packaging
Yours is a dim lamp throwing a golden sheen over your resting limbs
Mine, a cold trickle
flowing through crumpled bed sheets
A flashback of a hard life
lies uneasily with a morbid rehearsal of death
and the night rests between their noises
They touch briefly just before we dream
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhZuhFpO6pU6s9LNcuiEeyEGwk9gWPFaTddpDC1gv00Q_GsOzlQunRH56az6GxDx1gD6Qn5Ihb28RFBcbfFcoE2PkaQjfpenZ8TIQ0-ni5kiBGndu6tsHnY9IrHKZtFGdtHMsvlf6tGgH/s640/The+Sleeping+Couple,+1991,+Odd+Nerdrum.jpg)
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