a sprint towards sleep,
the idea of you.
Two steps and
a sprint towards sleep,
the idea of me.
One more step and
a sprint towards sleep,
the grand idea of loneliness.
Twice every twenty-four, right before and right after,
I numb and make inaudible sounds.
My pillows are hugged out, dried out.
The greatness of me had to downsize.
Here I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment