There is something intimate about 4am
it strips the day of its disguises
and leaves me all alone
drowning in the waves of my longing
at 4am my heart beats louder without a reason
and my thoughts wander barefoot
across the broken glass of memories
I lie deathly still and feel you moving through the ethers
the room is silent, but the silence is not empty
it is filled with unfinished conversations
and with the weight of words
that I did not correct or question
that I ignored for the sake of survival
at 4am I replay the small things
your smile, the intensity of your gaze
the way your absence still echoes
it is 4am and this hour is ruthless
there is no sunlight to soften the edges of loss
no sounds nor movement to distract from the pain
only the brutal truth lingers, sometimes for an eternity
it rearranges the songs of the soul from joy to melancholy
and at 4am you will find me, bargaining with the dark
just one more sign, one tear in the fabric of reality
and sometimes in the gentlest shift of air
I imagine I can hear you answer
it may not be enough to sustain a lifetime
but at 4am, it is enough to survive until morning
©Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 