-1My brother, swollen eyes

It is not easy to be a wife
to him, when the curtains are
drawn down at a 180 degree angle,
and he meanders under my covers
like a lost child.

It is not easy to kiss his swollen
eyes, lay face down, arms folding
me into this idea of ourselves, as
a love letter, unreadable in the dark.

It is not easy to wake up alone,
and pretend.