Posted in poetry


Rain taps on the tin roof
and I am in an unlit room
not thinking of you.
The air is cold, not like winter;
it feels like your arms
when they’re not
wrapped across my ribs,
your hand curling
next to my lips,
catching my more quiet breaths.
1:24 AM – the clock
sits on the table
next to the right side
of my bed, where you slept.
I am not lonely;
morning will be here soon.

Unsettled originally published at Melancholy Hyperbole – 2/8/14


2 thoughts on “Unsettled

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s