quietly lit kitchen and entryway.
humming of the refrigerator.
these are the things that keep me company in the early hours of the morning.
bare feet, light sweater.
cold keys, you do me no justice these days.
and in the quiet hours of the early morning, i find that all i have is a warm beating heart. but what does that give you other than the capacity to feel pain.
empty flower vase.
unused library and kitchen table.
steady melody keeping me awake.
these are all just reminders of the lonely place i call my home.
blurry vision, achy chest.
you say i amount to no good. complacent in my skin.
in these quiet hours of the early morning, i find that my skin keeps my likeness safe. but you can’t hide when you are bruised to the core.