The room

looks infinite from a corner

maybe it’s the light?

or my mind playing tricks on me?

just the physics? Could be.

But the sun will set soon

and the grey mist will

envelope the room and all

the scattered furniture within.

I wonder what

I will think of then?

the pink lamp

on a pile of books

that I can’t see?

or my own hands

which seem farther than ever

floating away, as if in


from the horrors they

have seen.

Your presence, like a warrant

for feeling, destroys

the dark.


you only, come by

when it’s still

light outside.

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