Midnight Meditation

There is nothing left to lift, having looked in elevator
shafts & other places where darkness is found. Against
the same negation I nestle, neck-long, undeveloping
what you are trying to create, the grey & emboldened
etchings found around the edges of your figure, shying
& hiding from that which we know to be day. Another evening
of waiting & sending off messages into the air,
coupled with the rubbing up of two cavities & the fact
that you believe in another end. Again it is morning
& we lie breathless in the middle of two distances.

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