Chaque nuit I retire before you, wearing bergamot perfume, a black dress, and a statement necklace modeled after the Aurora Borealis, with abalone shell and mother of pearl.
When I open my eyes, I am naked beside you.
It is dark and I realize how happy I am to share this life with you.
You are sleeping with tousled hair.
I touch your cheek, kiss your forearm, hug your torso, as you mumble something about work or other stressors.
You are both Clark Kent and Superman.
I think to myself, when we have silvery hair and soft bones, I will hold your hand and ask about the 1,000 mornings I missed you because you were reading about psychology, philosophy, or religion to help lonely people find solace.
Sara Cosgrove is an award-winning journalist and emerging poet. Her poems have appeared or are scheduled to appear in The Seventh Quarry, Meniscus, Notre Dame Review, Osiris, and Roi Fainéant. She has worked as an editor for 15 years and has studied in the United States, Cuba, and France.
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