the promise-laden air of 3am
lies stifling, stilled and sad
upon those who whisper into it
the darkest hopes and fears of man

the grass sways at any hour --
wind breathes alike under moonlit skies
as through baby blue air; yet
only one can burn my mind

unholy sit the grinning stars who
know my secrets and desperation,
the howling wolf that breathes, bites
in my chest, only in night's nation

why only under the sleeping haze
can I admit that the daylight burns
can I pour out my soul and own
the emptiness that swallows me in return

hushed tones and hushed hours carry
a safety: there my undoings are released
content at 3am -- 3pm holds my tongue
I drown in what lies underneath

my brittle hair holds my secrets
cracked teeth and skin contain my lies
shaking legs carry me until night's comfort
and the devil sits behind my eyes

*© Tara India.