At 12: 30, After Midnight Poem by RIC BASTASA

midnight is another
demanding master as you wake up
opening the window
where the skies have no stars

the night is dark and without
the twinkles of even faraway glimpses
at you who is in deep thinking
as to what is it that bothers you
and yet despite the tinkering of your
silver past
nothing appears as marks for your to
really regret and remember

you are left with nothing to do to appease
this troubled self
there is nothing to see or feel
you are empty, and numb, and someone is soundly sleeping
in bed with you but then you are not really there

when love is finally gone, what reason is left to
make you stay?
you ask the past to make the justifications.
it is dead.