i'm hoping, when you sit before me,
arms folded,
eyes scanning,
that you will see the words that brew in me,
not those written across my forehead.
that you will see me shrink,
before the reflection i catch on your pupils.
i'm hoping, when the Night enters,
through the crevices,
through the weathered down walls,
that she will escort me, swallow me, coddle me
as i stay awake,
as i watch every particle of light shed itself against my jagged edges.
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