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.