in the dead of night
that i won't remember
in the morning
ghost selves
sit on
ghost shelves
in my mind
begging me
to dust them off
and read what i have
done
but i'm afraid
of what the darkness
has stirred up
in me
i'm concerned
for my sanity
if i give legitimacy
to the moon's whispers
what will the sun
say to me?
(know)
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