because the sun stings my eyes
whenever I look for the moon;
because I'm lethargic during the day,
yet feel the gravity of anxiety at night.
I long for the things that
have come unexpectedly
and gone with urgency.
maybe that's why
I pine for you and
the familiar.
I know now
that both are as nefarious
as the disease that wears
my grandfather's
husk year-round,
but still I visit him
and the thought of you
as much as my mind
will let me.
so let me ask:
when he passes
will the thoughts
that I have of you
do the same?
will I be able
to feel warmth
from the sun,
or admiration
from the stars?
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