Loneliness isn’t not always your companion at 3am
Sometimes it hits you when it’s 9.39pm
The ghosts of goodnight kisses
Haunted by a lack of a heartbeat
Washing waves in time with yours.
Or it’s a memory of a painting
Of how you believed things to be.
Hands spinning in an endless circle,
Grains of sand monitoring
Your lacking passion.
The weight of the numbness
Holding down your air born heart.
An anchor keeping you in
The same place at sea.
With no lighthouse to guide you home.
The clock has chimed midnight,
and the spell hasn’t worn off.
Master of magic, a charming curse.
Unforgotten ghost, haunting halls
elsewhere
How I wish you would come home.
K Thwaites