The nights I cannot sleep
I conjure her entity.
In the blur of darkness it was hard to tell if she smiled. Her features an uncertain mass.
What are you looking for?
- A means of definition.
The second night she was streaked yellow and black.
I asked her why she had painted herself in warnings.
- I am not looking for love.
During the third I struggled to keep my eyes open. Tiny muscles straining to pull back eyelids. Her hair was shorn in patches, an old doll. I am sure she smiled.
- I do not wish to be beautiful.
Curiosity deepens in the hollows of my eyes. I will not sleep.
After an eternity of darkness she returned
in terrifying detail.

















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