3 AM

So what do you do then?

Amidst the darkness of nights

When the chilly December wind blows hard on your face

And you go almost numb.

What is it that you think about at those odd hours of the day.

You sleep alright but why always after 3 am

What is this obsession you clutch on to

So hard

Never ready to let go off

Who is this you search about in the silent eeriness of the room mildly enveloped by the night’s moon

Whose arrival is that half-closed door waiting for?

Okay. you don’t need to answer to any of that.

Sparing you that pain you see.

But do me a favor, when the smoke of your cigarette burns your inside and it seems like you’ll break again

Tell yourself to let go.

Close that dark box of memories,

And tuck them to sleep for some other day when it’s 3 am again and you turn sides in bed, wide awake.