There are nights I wake up at 3:17 a.m., with the quiet certainty....
Can I hold your hand— not as a passing comfort, but as an anchor through storms....
We never had a beginning. No first kiss, no photograph....
She may not be mine first, nor the last name I’ll ever whisper....
There are nights I wake up at 3:17 a.m., with the quiet certainty....
I like her. Even knowing I can’t have her.....
The first time, I couldn’t give you a thousand lilies. Only these....
The world is full. Overflowing, even— with voices....
I tilt my head back, and the night swallows me whole....
I used to see myself in the mirror. Not clearly. Not perfectly.....
I belonged to you. Every part of me....
There are nights I wake up at 3:17 a.m., with the quiet certainty....
I move through the room, like a ghost draped in skin....
What I want, lives in a world, just beyond the one I walk....
I press my eyes into the darkness, searching for edges...
I tilt my head back, and the night swallows me whole....