Sleepless Nights
there are nights
i walk – uncertain –
on bare hardwood
floors, making those
unsteady prints
of empathy,
regret, longing.
i push up dust
on times long
lost in old books
and cracked tomes,
at times a sigh,
at times a
whisper
in the quiet.
i recall suns
rising and falling.
i have walked —
bewildered,
in sad rain
on countless nights,
in silence,
in a void —
wondering.
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