Thursday, December 3, 2009

Meaninglessly Inn And Out

by Robert Gryfft

Maybe she can't sleep either. Maybe she's lonely. Maybe she wishes I'd talk to her.

I press my ear to the wall for long minutes. I drink myself to sleep.

I wash away thought and emotion the next morning. I make it to the airport in time.

I'm empty. Sure. But not lonely. I'm not.

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