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The Gloaming




You have a quality that I could feed from
With seemingly little effort you pet me and I slow

I feel like Miss Havisham. I wonder where Dickens found her?
I feel stuck in time with a mouldy mind
Wandering my house in the wee hours thinking I smell smoke
I am barely here
I am losing time
I've lost time
I flop into bed exhausted and Miss Havisham nags me until dawn
The wailing has begun. It's raining in my head
Years ago I cried so much I became dehydrated
I don't know where I am in this cycle
I don't know where I am in the week, or in my house

If I could I would place you in a rocking chair by my bed
I would make sure you had a window to watch the gloaming from
I might ask you to read to me. I can't listen right now
But the sound of your voice will wrap me in fur
I will drift to sleep with eyes wide shut and I will owe this to you

In all this dreariness please
Accept my love


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