The Girl I Sleep With (1)
Her eyes look darker
Her hair feels smoother but shorter
She stretched, a bit taller but lighter
I used to know her
Or maybe I think I used to know her
Every night before bed, she will drown deep in her own mind
Sometimes it makes her sleep looks wakeless
But often the air of infinity thought suffocate her into a far-away land of emptiness
Wake up dry, salty, empty
She barely speaks to me recently
After work, she comes home gloomy
I brew her coffee, sip it with TV, or sometimes with her favorite poetry
She grows older but I don’t think wiser
To sleep with her, I do feel it’s somehow a burden
Skin and bones, hair to toes
She’s hardly breathing through
Chest and cheeks, eyes to heart
She's trying to live through the vague blue
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