We love in the in between

On nights like these I realize—
I am not your first,
& I probably won’t be your last

Somewhere between the midnight hour
& the silence that is heaped upon me,
I am deafened…
I am tangled between slowly growing grass,
(it struggles and crawls up from the pores of dew-soaked soil)
closing tulips,
(the petals’ lips collapsing & pursed tightly shut) &
the waxing moon—
It is its increasing whiteness
with each night
in its cyclical, repetitious succession
that I am able to understand that

All I can do is hope


About laurenfedorko

Aspiring writer. English teacher. Philosophy: know more about the world than you did yesterday and lessen the suffering of others.
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