tenuous tingly moments
of clarity mixed evenly
with confusion
a wind chime
which may have been mine
or his
too far away to forget
too close to regret
tumbles of ill-timed emotional immunities
vaccinated against
dreams
knowing that the thing that
makes it
the connection
is believing
feeling ashamed
for doing well enough
without weaving my way
to a place where the sleeping lid image
matters
stands
supports
too tired to care
too tired to hope
too tired
just tired
and when I'm too tired,
I don't remember dreams
so even if he is there
as in real life
he isn't
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