fringes of pink tinge a cloud
in the early morning
no one sees the color among
the dull grey, except the
ever-exposed branches of a
tree which doesn't bare leaves
i'm not supposed to be awake, either
not now, not when the world sleeps
on this side of the sunrise
i think of my needs and then
how you must be sleeping, too,
considering the isolation of
others' unconsciousness
the helplessness of disconnect
soon you will wake
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