An Autumn night arrives prematurely reminding me that heartbreak is wrapped up inside even my favorite season. The creamy center. I slept well under a sheet and the bedspread. No need for a fan. Fairly low humidity. I opened the slider and had to close it around 1 AM. The coolness of the sheets. And the ghost of a memory of firm warm softness beside me. There seems to always be something sharp-edged or pointed or barbed in here with me now instead.
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