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February 2, 2016
To wake up
And remember
Nothing
But the sluggish movement
Of eyes, now longing to give in
To the desire they fought
So fervently before.
© Erin H., Carrollton, TX
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Often times, after long summer nights I would come home in the late hours of the night. I'd wake up in the morning, there's a weird feeling there. You feel almost hollow, like a sluggish, tired animal. The events of the night before seem almost fake. I hope to try to put words to that feeling throught this poem.