3 am

Eyelids are heavy

Thoughts are stirring

Merging, into new ones

Forming something magnificent

Chills down my body

Feel like hands trying to tickle

And my eyelids want to shut

I want to exasperate feelings

And sleep with a clear mind

Thoughts are out of line

Or unrealistic like hallucinations

I dream of going back in time

And fixing many things

Making myself into something

Something not inferior

Something that is not

Too diffrent or too the same

Critique comes from being

An individual, a follower, or a wannabe

Meanwhile I'm thinking

And trying to create;

To create the most beautiful colors

That I will see when I die.

i love that gentle touch you have left for me
                             after 11 at night
when we're lost in breathing
and holding onto
                                         future struggles
i love the slight pitch change of your voice
when you laugh at my jokes
               and chuckle when my voice breaks
after 1am as it always does
                                                  when im tired
i love that you ask if im feeling well
inquiring about the last mental
                                                  breakdow­n i had
simply needing to know
that im okay
                          not what why when
i love how you call me
               sweetie
                     dear
                        love
to catch my attention
to ask what time it is
and whether i need sleep
by which its 2am
and im in love with you