Affection in the Age of Wiring

A brightness permeates in a shadowed room.

Another sleepless twilight beckons from beside the bed.

The next flash could be a sign.

The next flash could be a chance.


Sound pierces a quieted space past midnight’s hour.

The morning crawls into view a second too soon.

I’ve yet to rest when sleeping on a cliff’s edge.

I’m waiting for the next message you’ll never send.

( ❤ Mitch)

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