Sleepless Nights

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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