It's 3am

I'm on the phone
No one's awake and I'm alone

It's 3am

The radio's on
Songs are played on lonely station

It's 3am

I'm in my bed
My eyes are open and sleep has fled

It's 3am

I'm on the balcony
The sky is dark and just quite scary

It's 3am

Some windows have lights
Could they also not sleep tonight

It's 3am

I'm still awake
When will life ever give me a break

She was like music,
and I longed to dance.

Her heart was the beat,
and I begged for the chance.

Her words were the vocals,
and I was put in a trance.

Her smile was the melody,
and I fell in love at first glance.

comfort
is such a foreign zone
that I long for,

a land that I can't seem to
be able to spot
on any map,

people tell me
its borders are indefinite,

and i tell them,
please take me
to the mother
I have never known.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

2 weeks it's been since your skin on mine
hand in my hair, fingers round my neck.
a fortnight young memory, rapidly ageing
it appears to me that there is no end in sight.
too young to travel, too young to defy.
all too much aching for me to survive.
to crave your touch, your voice and your smile
has become the only routinely act these past two weeks.
your smell has faded from the clothes you left behind,
but my yearning has only begun gradating into light.

agnosticism disregarded
i pray for an end to this
for two weeks to extend no longer till you're once again in my arms.