43 and hear I am
Losing my shit to Grace, again
How many mornings? I ask
Crouched on my bed
Eyeing his window
That sometimes I fly from
Now, right now, on this morning
It holds a blinding silver light
That cracks in a grey dawn
Above pathetic roofs adorned
With feeble antennae
Which Beg for love and joy
In all the wrong places
How many days? I ask
The silver light is still
We are sleeping
The silver light is silent
We are sleeping
Between time
Outside of time
The greatest loss
Is our greatest gain
Our only gain
In truth
He is in the horizon
This morning
Hold on - I think
Just a little longer
Dawn is nearly here