I Can’t Sleep

The darkness is conscious.
The cold, bitter air leftover from the death of this winter seeps into my blankets, into my bed like how you used to. It coils itself around me, making my body, my soul, its home. Nesting within me, I writhe. Like how I used to when you ran your fingers up my spine. Like how I used to when you ran your fingers down my back. It paralyzes me – just like you.

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