Lying on this couch, unable (unwilling?) to sleep. The hours nothing more than yellow numbers like some predators eyes staring back at me in the dark. If I wanted to, I could easily figure out just how much time is left before the alarm goes off.
I'll miss this streetlight piercing through the curtain. I'll miss the shadow of the cat sitting on top of the car, licking her paw slowly before combing it over her ear. A process projected by moonlight against papershaded windows, larger than life and yet small enough to dissapear against the tides of everything else in the air.
I'll miss the sounds of sleeping from down the hall.
I'll miss the spots in the floor that creak as you pass.
That I'll be happy to see fade into darkness.
Because it will.Asking yourself how. Asking yourself why.
Because it always does.
I'll miss this streetlight piercing through the curtain. I'll miss the shadow of the cat sitting on top of the car, licking her paw slowly before combing it over her ear. A process projected by moonlight against papershaded windows, larger than life and yet small enough to dissapear against the tides of everything else in the air.
I'll miss the sounds of sleeping from down the hall.
I'll miss the spots in the floor that creak as you pass.
I'll miss this place.But lying awake like this... lost in my own self-doubt, dancing across the floor with these whispers of desperate optimism, these frozen cracks in the ice that are just enough to still lead me to anger and frustration over the things that by now should just be let go?More than maybe I'll even allow myself to admit right now.
That I'll be happy to see fade into darkness.
If it ever does.
[Listening to: Pat Benetar, "Precious Time"]
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