1:11 am
I would have never thought that I'd enjoy the cold wind on a January night. But this is the soft kind of cold, seeping through the windows without making me shiver.
Everything is mellowed; my heartbeat hushed, the music subdued, the late Christmas lights faint.
My room smells slightly of smoke. My bed is abandoned, blankets tangled, as I sit by the open windows. Silence is welcomed like an old friend.
I inhale like it's the first time I'm breathing this year. I keep my eyes wide open; they don't have to close in the dark. I exhale slowly.
The idea of time passing, of morning, of the sun rising and the world waking up seems alien to me. The night is so darkly alluring.
I sit in the twilight, gathering strength. Even though I'm aware of it, life always catches me by surprise. It wears me out.
The chill drapes over my skin like gentle moonlight. My bones feel weightless, my head light.
Tomorrow will be another day, but tonight will be mine.
YOU ARE READING
Post - it
NouvellesRevelations, poems, short stories and three a.m monologues, all as tiny as a post-it
