Wanting Whispers

The dark holds
my wanting whispers
arms around me
all soft and warm and imaginary

your fingers slowly slipping
between the spaces, the words
reaching desperate for me
i hold on to what holds on to me

i can see us
through the stars
a wispy collection
of broken threads
connected, isolated
disappointment that sleeps
at the end of my bed

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Not much to tell, antisocial, bipolar, loner, poet. That's me in 4 word's.