hard on the eyes.

late at night.
when the weather keeps your room cold.
and the fan never stops.
you begin to get used to the humming sound.
that it puts you to sleep, instead of a comforting voice.
and you dream so hard that when it's time to wake.
you can't comprehend the feeling in your chest.
and as you stare straight above.
the ceiling becomes your canvas.
and you paint a picture of what might have been.
and as the colors of blue skies and yellow birds align.
it becomes a lot more complicated than you ever imagined.
and the dotted lines that follow along with your heart beat,
across a map of highways and train tracks blend in with the outline of her smile.
sadness falls.
like snowflakes on a sunny winter morning.
where they do not stick.
and as they melt. and grace along hillsides.
they collect, like rivers underneath your earlobes.
and as your arms reach out, your finger tips touch nothing but the cold air.
that your room left you, when it's late at night, until morning.



this photo was taken through the window in my room.
it's out of focus. but reminds me of when you first wake from a deep sleep.
your eyes need the time to adjust. and once they do..