So here I am again,

in the cross hairs of indecision.

To stay here would be my death,

to come back, my suicide.

I live and die there,

in my sleep.

And every day I resurrect myself,

A new man with the same dreams.

And you’re always in them.

A life and death of your own.

But you always stay, and I always come home.

That’s your home now.

And there you live,

a vague watercolor face in my sleep.

I can’t continue these cloudy inaugurations,

These lucid beginnings, Ambiguous endings.

We can’t keep meeting like this.

You aren’t welcome there anymore.

I’m sure I’ll see you again,

But for now,

I need to sleep on my own.


2 thoughts on “Ambiguous

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