Everytime I write

perhaps I shouldn’t have drink and write
sitting in the dark talking to myself
now the world knows
that all the times I have held my pen
is all the times I wish I could hold your hand

but everytime I write
i hope i meet you down the line
all curled up between my favourite words
a little slurry, a little slanted
leaning to the left
brushing my fingers almost
as if to whisper

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