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Apr 2
Once again, lying in bed,
The day's events
Flowing through my head
Like a movie
I don't want to see.

The dreams come and go.
I push them aside,
Each time wishing they would return;
They don't, of course.
Why would they?

I see her eyesβ€”
His eyesβ€”
Their eyes,
Painted on the back of my eyelids
Like graffiti on the silver screen.

Covers pulled over my head
Only serve to catch the vapor of my breath;
The click-clacking of a beast in the hall,
The quiet tick-tocking of a distant clock
Still permeate.
Β© Ethan M. Pfahning 2019
Written by
Matterhorn  17/M/Texas
     cosmos, Sharon Flynn and Rae
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