the morning after

And so it happened;
she slowly rose from the sheets
where dreams were made
and promises were broken
the night before.
The light caught her eye
in a small flicker
of creation,
deadly in it's own right
but with the strength,
the warmth,
the beauty,
to hold a picture imperfect.
Taking her hand from the
pillowcases,
and moving to the sheets
that held her in her love's
embrace,
she makes the bed
that contained her rhythm,
heartbeat,
breath,
thoughts.
She smiles, knowing alone
what really happened
last night.
"Is this," she thinks
"what it's like
the morning after?"

And she sets the book back down
on the shelf,
thinking of the night
she spent alone
with words
and in ecstasy.