Haven’t slept for about a century

He holds her resistant body

Until it becomes a pile of empty sheets

And he loves to torture himself

Into her angry dreams he wails

And she screams through antisocial tears

Refusing to drift into refugee sleep

His universe is in her open space

Her universe is beyond his everything

Freedom is a vacuum life … for now

He cries at her silent good-bye

Then believes she may come back

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