I know now that you are eight hours behind
and every day I make an effort to go to bed –
for you. I know you worry often for my state
and you know more than you let on
about why I lie awake

I’m sorry I haven’t sent you
your teabags or your postcards
you make fun a little but I know
you know why, that it never slipped my mind
but I can’t get to a place
where getting up and doing
are any easier to face

There’s something in my head
that eats away at my body
that can’t be cured by sand
by aeroplanes or palm trees
but they could help relieve it
and I know that you can, too

I don’t miss moments as much
as I miss the being there, as I
miss you being downstairs
always nearby, always awake
when I am not. The comfort
that you were singing fifteen feet
from my bed was worth
the times that were less comfortable
thank you


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January 11, 2014 · 8:17 pm

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