.5am.

Faces, words, donkey laughter and I,
Someone’s daughter, fail, frown at
the still dancing, and then
Moving, like a top, towards bed
But not sleep. I tap thoughts into
You but I don’t know if you can hear
Me. One finger constantly strumming
Doubts that I cannot dream away, though
I try.

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Published by

Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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