Nostalgia

I stayed in today
and in the tortuous arms of this afternoon
there was nothing I could do
but think of you.

With the wind scraping my window
and the couch cushion next to me empty
can you blame me?

This was one Sunday that really
took its time
hovering over me like the rain
did all day.

I washed my face tonight
in the time it takes most people to eat dinner
I fixed myself some hot chocolate,
a gift you had offered me earlier,
but I declined, not wanting you
to have to work.

I sit down now
in a blanket
and listen to the rain against the window
and underneath the tires of the cars outside
They all have their lives.
They go on without me.

At some point this has to stop.
I want badly to sleep.
But why even try?
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