[the indefinite after].

by Poet on the Piano   Aug 3, 2022

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:


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