3:45am

Is being able to sleep too much to ask for? Like a screaming baby looking for the carer, with no one to be found each time, but transparent arms around my waist and a little voice going down my spine. The screaming is not going to reach an end, kept under the spiderweb of my veins, covering you with it’s tenderness, though my veins are the origin of pain.
Or maybe I am the restless mother,  lingering over her peacefully resting baby, waiting for a scream to come out, holding her arms ready to be a place of nurture. No ticking clocks but aware that time is passing, in the end it doesn’t matter what I am, because I am lying here, alone.
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