Sipping tea, I started.

The pages, in a book, I turned.

The letters, I read.

My mind; dead.

Of her, I thought.

Another sip, I took.

At the words, I look.

Anything but register, they would.

I struggled.

Anything but read, I could.

Of her, I thought.

Her voice, I recalled.

My heart, a fire caught.

A text, to her, I sent.

‘Thank you’, was what it said.

Write, I began to decide.

Write, was not to abide.

I stopped.

In bed, I lied.

Closed, attempted my eyes.

‘Sleep’ I muttered.

My life, in joy was smothered.

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