the floor is cold, and its comfort
seeps upwards into the soles
of my feet, magnetized
and so i am forced to stay awake
my fingers are working on their own
and i'm not sure what my mind is doing
but i know my heart is beating
out a pattern
of slow, confused wonder
at how late it is
and i write things like
i look out the window, and the snow
reflects onto the sky
and the stars look down
and the trees look down
and i close the blinds
nights like this, i just look for beauty
and i stay up, erasing youth from my face
in an effort to find the knowledge
that will allow me to say i have lived
and i write things like
i want to open the window
and jump, land lightly
onto the frozen cement
and explore the street
see if it's any different
at this hour, when the beautiful
navy blue, pinstriped with black
has settled upon us
will it be beautiful?
nights like this, i need that feeling
and i try my hardest
to be poetic