You are an echoing, enimatic as the short distance home.
You’re a lame light,
dulling and fizzing out as I slip into sleep.
You’re a flashlight, a beacon when my limbs are clumsy and I can’t see.
Don’t let your keen visage die on me.
You are an echoing.
I have never met.
I have never experienced you nor had the chance to regret.
You make me believe I stand a chance against the hard grains, the pavement under my feet, the rain pelting my back.
My napsack grows heavier as I carry everything with me.
I’m running still though a stronger part of me is resisting the urge to sprint.
Sprinting faster into the curve, the great beyond of places, I’ve never been so unnerved.
I reach to find you in blank faces.
The light just shines barely but still with time.
It’s time I try to sleep but roaming thoughts meander within me.
I wonder if you have ever felt me like I sense you, too.




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