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