The body, deprived of sleep
feeds itself adrenaline to survive…
morning comes flushed with shaky energy,
a pounding heart
so easily mistaken for
love.
Your bare feet were lined with grime,
I wore your sweatshirt.
Awake before the alarm,
dressing hasty in the kitchen,
I am sure your roommate must have seen my shoes.
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Poetry and Prose
All work privately owned. Please do not use without permission from the author. What would be the point?
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