19 April 2015

2:38 a.m.

The ceiling has been my silent confidante for the past four hours.

There’s a pressure in my chest and it reminds me of all the languages I cannot speak and all the things I haven’t done.

I want to run outside until my legs burn with rough prairie grass and scream my name at the constellations above so they remember how often I was forgotten.

My entire existence lives in an image that can’t be conjured up.

I’m a combination of vowels and consonants with letters missing.

And when the Sun rises tomorrow,

I will not be anyone’s first thought.

( m e g )

Reviews

[sette]

it makes me think of the significance of the date and time, while reading the poem that is when i understand why it has a title like that.in hours of solitude and sleepless nights are the hours that we can really think why life is turning up like that. a good piece of work.

[Kelly Scheppers]

You are a most powerful force, and it is raging in everything I have read thus far. This is poetry at its finest in my book!