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Hothouse Bloom

I wonder if it is just me

that feels like a book on a shelf

collecting dust, waiting forever

to be picked up by you.


Do you feel that way too?

Always holding your breath

for a brush of fingers against your spine,

and letting it out again, slowly.


I tell myself I'm not disappointed

I didn't dare let myself hope.

How bitterly I have learned

to stop myself from anticipating


I fall asleep listening to your video

Memorizing every pause of breath

and the sounds of your words,

mouthing along to them


I dream of you, when I'm lucky

Although I'm not sure if it is luck; I cry when I wake

Torn between a melting dream

and the morning that never stops coming


Unconsciously my mind drifts to you

A finger grazing an open wound.

I do not let myself daydream, indulge

Those glimpses of paper-thin happiness


Still you are in every waking breath

and I cover my own eyes

refusing to see you in the sea and sky

but you are forever painted on my eyelids, leaving.


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