At 3:00 am, sleep skitters
across the room,
a shy mouse, out of reach.

I lie in the dark
and hear more of them
in the walls, the ceiling:
old decisions, choices long past,
regrets, sorrows, fears,
yellow-toothed and dirty,
chewing wires.
At this rate lights will flicker,
come winter. 

And so I call You,
Are You there?
Will You answer?
Will You come here once again,
into the infestation?

I’m here, You say.
I’m here.

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