I am touched and will not be able to sleep
he touched her
thru the fingers
of his poem
about the deep
night and the
sleepless one
a true story about
him and her
writing, deep,
deep into the night,
about sleeplessness,
why?
did he not tell her once
that he never sleeps?
did she not believe him?
did he not tell her
that his poems come
in the depths of darkness
from the dark recesses of
his dimming soul?
at a time when twilights
have not even sprouted
yet?
that his deep thoughts
come like some strangers
capricious and whimsical
and on shorter notice
leave without goodbyes?
now, the cycle grips him
again, he writes unceasingly
like he is being chased by
his own ghosts,
like he is one cat
disturbed by the shadow
of his own rebelling tail,
he shall write,
and if she too
is not sleeping at all,
tonight
then she must write,
like him as if both of
them are twins
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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