Autumn. Twilight. Fire lit. Restless. Solitary. She sits. She goes to window. She stands. She sits. Twilight. She thinks. She writes. She sighs. Twilight. Solitary.

James JoyceThe Complete Works; “Solitary Hotel”

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Like the tide, you are predicable. And like the waves, I must carry on.
i will break myself in half for you
and understand when you tell me
you are too tired
to put me back together