This Is Me.

This is me,
ten twenty four P.M.
On monday, march the seventh
two thousand and
eleven.
I am alone, in more ways than one.
Night has come, and has brought along her friend drowsiness with his friends blankets and toothbrushes and pillows.
It is dark,
and he is gone.

The moon shines through my window
enough to keep my mind alert
and eyes peeled
for a sign, a chance,
that maybe,
if I hope and
wish and
pray hard enough
I can let go
just as easily as he did.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback