I turn off the lights and hide beneath a blanket
phone dimmed,
laptop closed until I absolutely must open it.
Still,
11:21 pm and in comes a figure
to tell me to go to bed or risk the penalties.
He's trying to help me.
Hypocrisy.

The next day in the halls
and there is a figure in a hoodie,
backpack off one shoulder,
and I want to apologize but the look in his eyes hasn't changed
and somehow I know I was right,
that something is wrong,
that the search the night before hadn't been so pointless.
Hypocrisy.

Suddenly the air in my lungs is a brick
there in the hallway,
a sliver of eye contact before I look away
hide my arms when his are on display for all to see,
and I know anything I could say
in that very moment would be
Hypocrisy.