Calling for you
in the midnight hour
reaching out,
from the endless dream.
That's how it is,
these days.
Because I got sick when I got home
from vacation
I've wrapped myself in the cosy coffee house
environment that is the internet.
Reading page after page of Sylvia Plath
her words and anguish screaming at me in a certain font that I love.
The floor of the world falls away
when I'm wrapped in words.
That endless need is never satiated .
So there are books and newspapers scattered in every room
waiting ,
quiet,
like long lost lovers for me to return to them.
I always do.
*Sylvia Plath image via
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Pretty misty stars