3:13 am…dying poetry

3:13 am can be brutal to one
whom cannot write nor sleep
I was trapped awake
filled with a dread
an emptying heart…
broken was my aptitude 
something natural 
chest ached 
breath swallowed sadness
slipping effortlessly into my throat
no second thought
as if it could only live on despairing air
I lay in the dark 
waiting for sleep to come stealthily 
to rescue me and yet it evaded 
my subconscious lost
to awakened thoughts
my words paralyzed 
a reckless heart holding
hostage its lover
I think I kept them
close to me
poetic words straddling ribbone
as tight as corseted ribbons
decorating the curves of my waist 
stealing my breath
protecting my dwindling beauty 
what little I have left
that isn’t stolen by the undeserving

I remember the time…

3:13 am
a number of other significance
a heart story 
rained out & unendurable 
storm torn 
faint beats halfway close to gone
in the blink of a poetess’
sleeping heart…

3:13am only held my
dying poetry 

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