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The next morning

You were drunk last night peculiarly.
You laughed, you staggered, clumsily you ate
But didn't drop a bite or break a thing.
You said your room was messy and you farted
And that meant you were gross, I disagreed.
You said that I just liked you, I agreed.
And now you are asleep, and it is morning.
You won't wake up for several hours yet.
I hope you are not sick when you awaken.
You try so hard to please and do it well
And yet you seem so unapproachable.
Last night you seemed so vulnerable and harmless
That I don't know what to make of what I saw.
As Ty once said of people, you are too
Independent. I am like a ghost
And it's you I haunt. You are an object
With the sun behind you, I am in
Your shadow. Why am I afraid of you?