3 AM

Like a pruned pine cone
Waiting for a dry winter
My eyes are peeled
A bright red splinter

I await his voice
His thoughts in my head
I await….

This thought
Comes and goes and wonders
A soul scratched raw
Doesn’t really feel unloved

It lies lifeless
In a corner of a dead bed
It lies….

When eventually the dreams of death
Dance before the eyes of dawn
The sun is not really red today
It has decided to move on

I walk on closer to myself
Hope I’m enough to live
I am….

image