across the feathers and the glass and
through the fires of your own head to
stop here, as far away from breathing
as close to falling..

i have been a thousand miles in every
direction, further
before the sun has fully pierced the day

i have tried to silence you with noise to
cover you in a blanket of notes and
his voice and i know
he is here, sometimes, too

all sewn into the edges of a cloud

how sharp i must seem now..

you are quiet, again.
It always comes after a late night, whether it was eyes wide open too early to call it a night awareness or worse, stupid insomnia that kept us up.

This one came after walking talking spilling random words that had so much even in their seemingly unrelated content. Because they came so smoothly, it was almost easy to forget what it was we had been talking about. Instead it was murmuring into a sleep that ended not abruptly, more like sliding into a morning that was half gone. No urgency to get up.

This one came after stubborn pride. After refusing to give in to sleep, because there must be something more to it. By It I mean the night should have been longer or could have been stronger with meaning and I would have been someone else if I slept it away. This means it was upright tapping words into this box, words that got lost, and myself smoking, smoking till the twittering birds come through the obsession and it was pearly grey morning already.

There is another one, it is the most normal of a night's sleep. It is restful and long and sudden awakening to an alarm clock, but it does not feel bad. It feels like being prepared.

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