[the indefinite after].

I could never sleep through
you disturbing me,
robbing life of its grooves,
only leaving me with flat lungs.

I could never run far,
every stagnated dream
catching up with me,
slow motion blues,
feet molding into stone.

If then was now,
I would have snuck out
at midnight, when you
were covered in dark,
busy assaulting the
dignity of words.

I would have knocked on
his door, breathless,
muddled memories
pouring out of my eyes,

and I would've asked
for shelter.

It doesn't matter my age or
how long it's been since
your last torrent of illusions,

I still dream of leaning on
someone, of letting them
see it shouldn't be expected
to have to process

the weight of you

years after.

______________________

Written while listening to "Self" by the band Sleepy Soul:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6KbEcKeRDHM