The world goes quiet at 2 a.m.
and your head gets loud enough to drown it.
It tells you this is the end of the line,
that logging out is the only way to turn it down.
But nights don’t get a vote.
They always end.
Stay for the way the dark gets thin at the edges.
Stay for the first bird that doesn’t know you’re hurting
and sings anyway.
Stay for the coffee that will taste like something
when your tongue remembers how.
You don’t have to feel better tonight.
You just have to stay in the room until morning
can argue its case.
One hour. One breath. One more sunrise
you get to see because you didn’t leave.
That’s enough. That’s everything.
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 6:37 AM UTC
The world goes quiet at 2 a.m.
and your head gets loud enough to drown it.
It tells you this is the end of the line,
that logging out is the only way to turn it down.
But nights don’t get a vote.
They always end.
Stay for the way the dark gets thin at the edges.
Stay for the first bird that doesn’t know you’re hurting
and sings anyway.
Stay for the coffee that will taste like something
when your tongue remembers how.
You don’t have to feel better tonight.
You just have to stay in the room until morning
can argue its case.
One hour. One breath. One more sunrise
you get to see because you didn’t leave.
That’s enough. That’s everything.
