the museum of 4 in the morning
It’s the museum of 4 in the morning and
I feel like one of its antiques.
It’s the museum of 4 in the morning and
there is no moonbeam through the window.
What there is is a quiet that will not end -
a still still there despite my movement -
and a hush that has settled itself down,
clashing unsettlingly with the off-beats of
my still-beating heart.
It is dark and yet
I can see my own shivering shaking thoughts
Hanging about me with their lanky limbs
and knowing eyes,
blue like his and blue like mine
and blue like the blue he has come out of
and into my mind.
So I bury myself in the sheets and the past -
in the dusty catalogues of art long forgotten.
It’s the museum of 4 in the morning and
I am the only one present.
And yet maybe that’s not true,
maybe you’re there too?
You,
And you,
And you and also you –
At 4am we are all awake,
At 4am we lie in that silence together.
http://fourinthemorning.com
It’s the museum of 4 in the morning and
I feel like one of its antiques.
It’s the museum of 4 in the morning and
there is no moonbeam through the window.
What there is is a quiet that will not end -
a still still there despite my movement -
and a hush that has settled itself down,
clashing unsettlingly with the off-beats of
my still-beating heart.
It is dark and yet
I can see my own shivering shaking thoughts
Hanging about me with their lanky limbs
and knowing eyes,
blue like his and blue like mine
and blue like the blue he has come out of
and into my mind.
So I bury myself in the sheets and the past -
in the dusty catalogues of art long forgotten.
It’s the museum of 4 in the morning and
I am the only one present.
And yet maybe that’s not true,
maybe you’re there too?
You,
And you,
And you and also you –
At 4am we are all awake,
At 4am we lie in that silence together.
http://fourinthemorning.com