Tenderness

And I awake to a day
to a tender nightmare
to caress my thoughts
like your bare legs in it
and i bet i wouldn't choose
any other way for as much as a minute
because I used to cry over that spilled milk
and now i cry for myself, who spilled it
and i'll slither out of any good situation
as if it was my only skill
and i bet
i'll dwell on its goodness
like it was all i had left