One-hundred and Twenty-one:

Last night I dreamt of strangers in my bed.
I dreamt of waking up, reaching out, only
to keep finding unfamiliar lines. I traced
back after back, souls of all different shapes
and every time, every god damn time, it was
you. In the morning I stretched for you; nails
in your back startling you awake. I told you
about my dream. You told me I was weird
and jumped out of bed, preparing for departure.
You’re never on time but, for this, you managed
to be premature. When I heard the car engine
growl, and you floated away from me, I went and I
lay in the dent you left behind. I let you think
I was awake for the day but, actually, it’s only
now that I can sleep, wrapped in the idea of you.

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Alexia

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

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