Late Night Scribbling

Behind my eyes, my thoughts twist and run
through the gates of the city;
worn cobblestone clicking under my feet.
Worry swells in my heart until my eyes gush hot tears
of sadness and happiness and possability,
and my throat finally relaxes.
I go to sleep waiting for the ache to wash away, my fingers dancing across the pillow
until a firm hug, a small smile, and some old photos
remind me I’m really going home.

2 thoughts on “Late Night Scribbling

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