Tonight arrives with empty promises
and remains empty
until
loneliness fills it up
so that inspite of waking
many times
it is not yet morning
and there is no sleep
in my eyes
only tears
and dreams so close
you are caught in my lashes
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Intersecting at Stoppard
Tom Stoppard died this week. I've been in awe of his work since I was an undergraduate, maybe even before I actually ever read his work,...
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