In bed
I wait for the dawn to break over my head
Like an egg

You have your face muted.
And now the salt trickles down into your dirty mouth
I had pecked to silence

Yesterday
we hurled
words at the walls

I saved you some leftovers
“I see
it ain’t that hard
to milk our sorrow for all its worth.”

Over.
Easy

Our
Sunday morning breakfast
in bed.