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Mornings after singing
Emptied of the what is it that burns inside for a time
I am raw and tender
Heart and soul naked and bare
As though I have shared with the world
All my sacred intimacies
Lips stained, inflamed from kissing the microphone
Caressing the audience’s curves with my voice
And music, the lover who has kept me up all night, has
Mussed my hair, smudged my makeup, and
Left me to awaken to an empty bed

Copyright © 2014 Andie Whitewing