NIGHT TERRORS

Doors never stay closed in this house.
Listen to the ten o’clock creaks in the hallway
in between the music padded in your ears.
Tell me a story, a story of you and me

Candy-coloured headphones, makes you feel
like Christmas, almost. Sweet, succulent dreams
running high on sugar and the notion that
in a couple of hours, when the fairy lights fade
this will all be gone.

Midnight, the same song’s still playing.
Show me a place where we can be alone
Alone?

I’ve never really learned what it means to be alone.
The windows rattle every now and then. Who is it?
A friend? A secret lover? The branch of an olive tree?

You tell yourself the night is still young,
reaching for the dwindling light on your laptop screen
flickering on and off, the same way your eyes flicker
the same way the lights do so now who’s in charge
of the switch?

Tell me a story, a story of you and me
The world moves while you’re sitting still.
It all ends so perfectly, you’ll see
No one’s here. No one’s ever
listening— Can you hear my cries in the middle of the night?

Can you see us drifting away into the light?

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