I can't sleep.
Day 9 was missed.
It makes sense but only if is worth it.
8 is the crazy number.
I wish I could make you my own.
I'm dry to the bone.
Dead and to the touch so cold.
I'm confused.
Curiosity draws me near.
I thought I should seek more.
But my diary fed me the answers.
I want to say so much.
Seems like I have no right to.
I want to ask to much.
Feels like I'll only be staking you with wood.
I feel like I NEED to.
But, I shall cease it all.
Maybe I shall take my own advice for once.
Or maybe way too many times.
But let's just call it a revelation.
Just my diary and me knows.
I still can't sleep.
I wish you were here.
Those dreams are back.
Even if it was a few second of shut eye.
I can't sleep.
They creep back into my dreams.
I see death.
My own it is.
I can't sleep.
I just want you here.
Patience is virtue.
For you. I will.
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