She texts me late.
She's curious where my thoughts go at night.
I ask if she wants to go there, cause
that’s a trip with no end in sight.
(She doesn't answer)
I check my screen for her name.
I’m low and her attention’s my high.
I feel my reflection looking down on me,
trying to reveal the shame in my eyes.
(I don’t look)
She texts back an hour later
—I'm still awake, catching thoughts like fireflies—
Sorry I passed out
is all she replies.
I smile, close my eyes
and place my phone to the side….
