There is always poetry
to keep you up at night,
when you’d ought to be sleeping.
When your heart is overflowing,
and your mind wishes to keep it company.
There is always poetry
to give you nightmares
or lucid dreams
once you’ve finally fallen
into the daze of night.
There is always poetry,
always coffee and a pen
to write down what your fingers remember,
to trace over old love and write down a new girl’s number.
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