Breathing Moonbeams
It is late and quiet, save the
Scribbles in the dark
It's unusually cold for April.
High off caffeine and inspiration
Sleep is fruitless, unattainable.
Alone in the dark
Surrounded by comforter –
But not the right kind;
It does not warm me like you.
Breezes rush in with goosebumps
Curled up, shivering, tide draws back
So cold, too tired to think
Unable to rest or sleep, impossible
To soak up starlight
On this clear night
Comes with a price.
All alone, cold bringing merciful apathy
Don't close the window
Never close the window
I'm breathing moonbeams
And It's unusually cold for April.