Flint cracks and flame errupts.
Crisp green turns to charred black.
Each inhale
pulls clouded plumes into my lungs.
The taste rolls along my tongue.
In fragrant wisps
my anxiety melts.
Burning bad days,
caressing the pain away.
Glazed and glossy eyes
see the silver lining through the haze.

1am
when my eyes are tired,
not yet ready to close.
My body has melted into the couch.
And my mind still races through a haze.  

2am
at the frosted window.
When the lights are out
in sleepy neighborhoods.
The bars emptying onto the street.  

3am
and I should be snuggled in bed.
But the glow of the monitor reflects in my lenses.
Time slows
and so do I.

4am
and words spill into my brain
and onto the page.
Will they make sense tomorrow?
Do they make sense now?

5am
hits me like a brick.
It's not poetic.
It's not romantic.

6am
is for the work worn
and the insomniacs
trying to pass the time unscathed.

She spins in the Spring air,
the sun shining in her hair
and it's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

A smile across her lips
you can watch the sadness melt in the sunlight.
Tragically beautiful.
Eyes full of tears never shed.

A heart empty and longing for someone to understand it's beat.
A soul on fire,
when you fan the flame
a passion burns in her.

Her mouth begs to be kissed,
but she keeps her lips locked
between nervous nibbling teeth until they are raw.

Curiosity and innocence are tangible on the surface,
but when you look behind the curtain
the shallows turn to drop offs and the depth could swallow you whole.

But she'll never let you that close,
she won't let someone risk drowning for her.