Restless Nights on Busy Mornings

Pillow vertical, beside
slightly above. I fall asleep
with this, imagining it
was you. And most nights
this works enough. And to-nights
is when I lie awake and
weep.

Weep as in keening,
of older times. Weep,
not cry or tear. Weep, tears
running into slow, silent vertical
lines.

When I see you next,
the date I know not.

When I see you again,
give me a shirt you’ve slept
in for a week to take back
so on these to-nights I can
have and smell a sense of
you and hopefully that
will drift me off to sleep.

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