NaPoWriMo, Day 9, a relic from an aftermath

Found this in my drafts, but it echoes how I’m feeling today in a particularly sharp way. Presented with a little editing.

This is just a relic from the aftermath of a past life lived twice.

Day 8
untitled

he told me he loved my writing
his eyes shone
his ears perked
he had never heard anything like my words before
somehow
a dead man’s smile is weighing down my chest

i do my best work at night
with uninterrupted mania
i wrote then because i wanted him to see me
i write now because i am inadequate in person
always reaching for something else

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