Crisp In The Night Poem by Hunter James

1: 04 AM

Thoughts like autumn
Keeping me awake like a cold.
My small room draped in the shadows of love
And the sunlight of 1: 05am
Confined the sickness spreads
I'm shaky and holding tissues to the wound
Its too late
To be without
You.
The air is like rubber,
My crackers are like dough
And my coffee is expired orange juice
Life lost its margin
When life lost you
Just pages turning.
No paragraphs no chapters
The slightest vibrations I hear you
Hearing me.
The drip of tap,
Did you hear that?
The fridge humming,
Listen.