when i came home from work
covered in paint, and debris,
the dust of the day. the curl
of my hands still holding
a phantom brush, or tool.
my shirt heavy with sweat,
my shoulders sore, my legs
moving slowly through
the door. how she'd greet me,
and put her arms around me,
put her hands through my hair.
and wiped my brow
go take a bath she'd say.
i'll make us dinner. relax.
you're home now. i love you
more than any other.
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