<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485398" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>After Having Written Poems Late At Night...</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see her turning off the light<br>on the table. I can see gray.<br>I hear her<br>folding the books and<br>crumpling the papers<br>perhaps her drafts<br>of a letter or<br>a composition.<br>I see her stand, leave the chair and the table, <br>and i hear the closing of the door.<br>everything turns dark.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i imagine her lying in bed<br>she closes her eyes</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i know that the light inside the room<br>is open.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">as usual the TV is on with no one watching.<br>i just know it. It is a habit<br>and it has become a practice and that<br>when i follow, i must be felt<br>when i turn off the light<br>and when i turn off the TV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know she is awake.<br>But i do not mind</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we all pretend we are alive and that<br>we want to sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we fall on the same mistake.<br>we sleep always late, and we do not talk about it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i put my hands around her body.<br>she tilts her body and finds her own direction towards the path to</div><div style="margin:10px 0">her own dreams<br>not mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485398" data-title="After Having Written Poems Late At Night... de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="I see her turning off the light on the table. I can see gray. I hear her folding the books and crumpling the papers perhaps her drafts of a letter or a composition. I see her stand, leave the chair and the table, and i hear the closing of the doo..."></div> </div> </div>

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