04:17—
your forehead rests against mine
hair messed up all over, tickeling
my nose. heavy breathing. you
are asleep, I am spellbound
by the way your eyelids tremble
when you dream.

blurry silhouettes melt into
the pitch black night. such is my
idea of timelessness,
I see it here,
clear before half-closed eyes.
the first cars are being backed out of their
garages outside—a couple of hours more
before reality returns to haunt the
morning.