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sam-greig-mohnsPoems
It's 3 am again I hate that word... again it feels so certain so absolute that I might never sleep... again see? that's why I hate it and the way the walls feel too close together as though they could be listening slowly compressing the doorway to the bedroom so that it would be impossible to pass through that I might never climb between the soft warmth of those covers again... thick carpet is curling up between my toes tickling the tired soles of my feet as I pace again passing through the hallway towards the kitchen lurking shadows of appliances of which the tasks seem to escape me the gleam of lights on their many polished surfaces strolling through the living room open window letting in the night breeze to kiss against the skin I have not covered again I cross paths with the coffee table narrowly avoiding its sleek edges that interject into my nightly obstacle course so stealthily pausing in the single bathroom to admire if only briefly reflected light across her shoulders curve of her back down towards her waist and toes the color of eyes in darkness the shape of her face and nose how sweet how dark, mysterious quiet, brooding thoughtful that girl seems to be depending on the time of night light from the moon across her face we meet again again..
0
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
Pacing the living room, possibly naked (Insomniacs Lullaby)
It's 3 am again I hate that word... again it feels so certain so absolute that I might never sleep... again see? that's why I hate it and the way the walls feel too close together as though they could be listening slowly compressing the doorway to the bedroom so that it would be impossible to pass through that I might never climb between the soft warmth of those covers again... thick carpet is curling up between my toes tickling the tired soles of my feet as I pace again passing through the hallway towards the kitchen lurking shadows of appliances of which the tasks seem to escape me the gleam of lights on their many polished surfaces strolling through the living room open window letting in the night breeze to kiss against the skin I have not covered again I cross paths with the coffee table narrowly avoiding its sleek edges that interject into my nightly obstacle course so stealthily pausing in the single bathroom to admire if only briefly reflected light across her shoulders curve of her back down towards her waist and toes the color of eyes in darkness the shape of her face and nose how sweet how dark, mysterious quiet, brooding thoughtful that girl seems to be depending on the time of night light from the moon across her face we meet again again..
sam-greig-mohns
Written by
sam-greig-mohns
Canadian
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
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