This isn’t edited 

Night rhythms floating
through an open window –
a car horn, cats fighting,
music in the distance –
city sounds building
to a crescendo.

Thoughts run free.
And I can’t sleep.

Words have power, they say.
So do piercing eyes
and smiles only
meant for me.
these are the things
that keep me awake.

And will one day be
the death of me.
And I still can’t sleep.

Online, offline,
On, off, on, off
Obsessive.
Compulsive.
Typing…

I hold my breath
at the sight of
green text too.
Actually,
I hold my breath
When I think of you.

And words still fail me.
They always have.
You have to leave.

And I hope that this, too
Won’t be the death of me.

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