Late in the lab,
tired and bleary.
My heart still hurts,
my soul still weary.
Trying to pipette
and be lost in this.
Not think of him
and his tender kiss.
Can’t swallow the sun
and I can’t push it out.
Can’t kiss the moon
or let go of my doubt.
Ponytail, keeps hair up,
out of my face worn dull.
Not even in sleep now
is there a soft lull.
Tugged, my ponytail pulled!
I snap around, looking for him!
He used to pull my ponytail,
did he come in this lab so dim?
Hand to the back of my head,
was it a ghost or a dream?.
Was it a desire for his return,
or an intoxicating moonbeam?


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