One Type

The lost dawn of the morning 

is truly done and gone

the lights are all off and quiet

thank goodness no one can see me

wrecked with little Ms. shy thing

sipping the life back into me.

Even the birdsongs are screaming

from the floor to the ceiling.

What started out as whispering

quickly evolved to a heartbeat

pounding in the throat.

Strangers and their funny hands

unsure where to put them.

I believe in foretelling visions

especially coming from

someone so serious.

The one type that get me

oh my is this a dream?

You must know how to cut hair

how to properly walk in a room

know what it means to have a playlist.

The last dawn is now done and dusted

the jealous sun has ruined everything

it’s time to get up and move on.

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