The only one awake in this house.

Three eleven in the morning.

It makes sense why.

I'm waiting for everyone to wake up.

They're not.

I can't sleep.

But I'm tired.

I can't eat.

But I'm hungry.

Then suddenly the phone rings.

I answer it.

You were calling.

Said you couldn't sleep.

Needed someone to talk to.

I felt happy you called.

I felt a sense of belonging.

I felt you cared.

I felt you as a friend.

Then I felt I wasn't awake.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I was baby-sitting one July morning last year and it was 6 in the morning and I was sooo tired. I was listening to Blindside "Sleepwalking" and that and being awake so early for so long inspired this poem.

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