Dustin Triplett
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Poetry

Empty Night (2016)

Hello there, Loneliness.

You are back again, I see

but maybe you never left.

You are the flowers that

bloom at my feet. The same flowers

that decompose after the seasons

pass. I would grip them tightly,

offer them to the prettiest girl

under the starless night sky,

endure the thorns, cross

my fingers, and hope

that you would relieve me

of the token of my affection.

But I could never do that

to you. Those thorns are

deeply embedded in the

root of our distraction.