Blue Moon
Quarter to three.
I am still here with a glass of water I haven't touched and thoughts that refuse to be parked.
Waiting for what.
I don't know.
Maybe nothing.
Maybe that's the problem.
There are two of me tonight.
One is fast asleep.
One sits in the dark, and feels the dark is more honest than any daylight I have ever lived through.
My subconscious tonight is like a city I knew, but all the roads have been moved.
I turn right and end up somewhere I should have left behind long ago.
There are faces.
Not all of them belong to people still living.
Not all of them belong to people who ever existed.
Some are perhaps just parts of me I never gave room to speak.
And tonight they are demanding.
About what the night has never taught on a blue moon.
Whether it is about the dark and the silence.
And about how you finally meet yourself without pretending there is somewhere else to be.
Between sleep and waking, there is a place with no name.
I go there often without meaning to.
There time doesn't depart anywhere.
There everything unfinished sits side by side with everything that will never be finished.
And both look exactly the same.
Dawn will come and I will pretend last night nothing happened.
Drink coffee.
Open my phone.
Watch a film.
But somewhere inside the chest, something knows.
Last night I went somewhere deep.
And came back carrying something that doesn't yet know its own name.
โง๏ฝฅ๏พ: *โง๏ฝฅ๏พ:*
