You told me, Sleep, I’ll wake you in the morning.
I asked, What is morning? and you said,
When everyone who fucked with me is dead.
When everyone we loved has gone or fled,
That’s morning. Empty’s the same as clean.
Let’s put this first-draft dream of mine to bed.
In that appointed hour
I’ll turn down your sheets. I’ll kill the light,
Lie down beside you; die; and sleep the night.
This time will be the time we get it right:
Forgiveness not so hard, nor anger long;
Our graves will be less deep, our lies less true.
You held aloft the sword
I still love y
some of y'all have done jod’s work noting discrepancies in this poem vs the printed version…. pencil’s down! our memory of the poem wasn’t as reliable as we thought. gg y'all remain undefeated
next time will be the time we get it right
all tlt fans waiting for alecto news like
ALT