It's really late and i can't sleep. again.
it's the third night in a row i lie awake,
coughing
thinking
praying
to the bottom of the bunk above me.
I don't understand why i'm still
stuck--
on another one that isn't the one
on old habits
on the things i hate the most--
and can't move on to the good part,
the part where i let you
write my love story
make permanent improvements
forget about what i'm not.
the truth is




you're really far.
or maybe its just me and
my biggest fear all along
was getting so far
i'd never come back.
i forget
every time
that instead of sending pigeons
or smoke signals,
you keep me awake.
i learn the hard way
nothing fills what's missing
when i don't want you to
fill me.
they all change their minds,
or leave
or find a way to take a the piece they like.
and all that's left
is me.
coughing.