Sky soft-curling on the lines that matter, pale slicing down,
I find my front door and try the key.
Until I get it right, breath blown out relief powered, quiet though, because they're asleep.

These boys here, speaking branching words meant to welcome. The girlfriend, her name slanting from my reach.

I lock the door. Keys crush, hushed, silent in hand against the dark, the questioning downgoing, the black stairs. Downstairs finally my door is solid, wooden, and the doorknob slivers sound into the empty when I go in.

Still. Sound is my breath, heavy in my throat. Hungering for unquiet lungs.

Light raps at my window and I beg a reprieve, tongue my lip where I cut it coppery and accidental.
If I fall asleep now I dream up lost, loved, longed after, but if I don't sleep I won't find it at all, not here.

So my eyes go ticking down, languid. Light looks on.