@ THE 12TH HOUR

@the 12th hour still find me retracing the moments
that led to our thousand in-bed kisses;
they were secrets left in a harmattans dream.
each second — a bowline knot
leading straight to our
late night cuddles
and cartoons breakdown
and last minute goodbyes
at the break of dawn.

@ the 12th hour still find me sleeping
next to a laptop of the movies you left;
i still hear your voice
when i read the lines of the book you gave
of your favorite paragraphs (I think)
the clock hands, mocking,
leading me through a maze of
memories and parking lot conversations.

@ the 12th hour still find me rewriting histories
with homemade cookies,
maybe the sugar will point to where
i started losing you —
and maybe it's in every direction.
the black, bold numbers have become my crumbs
leading to road trips and
to all the sleep we missed,
kissing;
now i still miss my sleep
without your lips next to mine.

and @ the 12th hour still find me
writing poems like these
but clearly,
you're too far off
for these words to reach.

and now, @ the 12th hour still find me wanting you back.
and 'til now, the 12th hour still find you gone