I slept until the night came for me.
Dismissing notions of half-thought excuses,
For in sleep, whats real cannot hurt me.
I wasn't certain the night would be any different
But at least no one would see the tears.
Had I even cried?
Did I allow myself that indulgence?
I felt sure that I had.
The sleep would not have been so deep if I had had nothing to hide.
And now waiting in longing for those calls I ignored,
I wonder what my excuses will be.

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