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in these quiet small hours of the night
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Even when we talk, we share
between us an infinite silence.
Beneath all the small words we give
each other, “how was your day?”
“look, the sun is setting.”
there is a silence as patient as
the warm soil of a spring garden
under which seeds of desire sleep.

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Tonight I miss someone but don’t know who.
I am homesick but don’t want to go home.
Tonight is one of those nights that I roam
through the streets, out of breaths, a restless soul
synching her own heartbeat to the rhythm
of the pulsating stars. Tonight I fall
into the unknown space between two
seasons, the lonely cocoon of October.
Tonight is one of those nights that I lay
myself down under the full moon, waiting
silently and faithfully, until I
soar into bright light as a butterfly.
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After he’d gone to sleep,
she stared at the blank space
between his shoulder blades,
and she saw swirling galaxies
of thousands of nameless stars
bursting to be discovered.
Sometimes she wished him
a brave explorer, a curious
poet, a hopeless romantic.
Sometimes, deep into the night
when she couldn’t fall asleep
she wished him someone else.
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