my sanctuary, the dark
Sometimes I think
if I do not sleep,
the morrow will not come
I dig my nails into the hour hand
begging her to stay
here, suspended,
where light cannot reach
I feel a semblance of peace
my sanctuary, the Dark
I dress it how I like
adorned in soft sounds and
heavy sheets, it beckons me
eventually my grip goes slack
and I fall into
the space between
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