You forgave me
I never forgave myself
Fiction writes itself over forgotten truths
Creates the illusion of reality
The baby is crying
You ask me to
come over
I walk from my chair to you
My steps are measured and uneven
Night will not pass and
I cannot sleep
Eventually the cries lessen
The calmness of the dark
bores into me
The ceiling fixes it's gaze
on my open eyes
until tears burst over
the edges of my eyelids
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