By night, it all gets a little
heavier.
Each measure of each song reaches a little
further into the pit of the stomach.
Each touch from each lover burns the skin with a little
more heat,
sure to leave with more permanence.
Each breath of each lung pulls a little
more even; stretches the ribs a little further.
Each beat of each feeble heart feels a little
more sturdy; a little closer to the throat.
Each word from each mouth tastes a little
more like honesty, like humility,
like the plead to be discovered.
Each worry of each hopeful dawns a little
bit harder; seems a little more tragic.
Each memory of each soul has a
freshly sharpened blade, sinking a little
bit deeper.
Each reality of each dreamer sits a little more
threatening on your chest, stealing your divine air.
Each fear of each mind lurks a little darker,
a little more suffocating,
a little more real.
By night our world is raw, unsheathed.
By night it is all a little heavier on our souls,
like dew on a too warm spring morning;
beautiful, but a little harder to breathe in.