Thursday, July 12, 2012

quarter past three

quarter past three
is that edge of night
that knows dawn approaches
and still beckons you to stay awake
where demons come calling
with luggage you thought thrown away
and wants your company

this edge of night
waits like butterfly knives
breathing at the chance to draw something out
and sleep stands by
only until the first wound appears
to lend crimson and fatigue
to the morning's gold and promise of new days

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