I awaken each night,

twilight long tucked away,

the stars far past their thrills

in the wee hours of nowhere,

missing something I can’t hold onto

in the early morning light.

And I labor

through the ticking clock,

ticking,

tocking,

etching away at me

layer by layer,

any part that remembers

the dream

for a different girl

in a different time.

The one who rests her head

on satin pillows,

who sleeps in peace

of choices well met.

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