an ode to 3am

feeling and swelling 

bursting and breaking with 

perverse novelty or ? 

it could be us 

in hot air balloons floating 

or

crying at the leaves

folding and bending towards

resting our heads 

at least for a little while 

i hope 

i wish 

and i’m sorry and i’ll try 

so close 

the words kissed first 

before 

maybe it was the wine 

or the records or? 

the lemons, i guess 

the paper stars 

you 

it won’t be different 

for now, at least 

swaying and rocking

lips and eyes and hands 

maybe

the stars, next time 

the clouds, sometimes 

paper cranes, possibly 

a dance for you,

always