like an old t-shirt
that so comfortably stinks
of an old lover
how you don't wash it
and sometimes sleep with it
and pretend that nothing ever changes
that night you sleep deep
and barely remember your dreams

like your third cup of coffee
in the morning
the one that really peels your
eyelids back
and there's nothing in front of you
but the next step
and there's nobody and you wouldn't have it
any other way

like a little past midnight
again
and wondering how and when
sleep will come

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