Hunter James


Unswoon - Poem by Hunter James

Dear,
Let me sing a little why this moment is still dull,
These words are small to those who are not wrapped around the night,
To those unawake 1: 44am on a Tuesday morning these words are meaningless.
Sleep is unattainable words are large, I am a raging sea. Everything disturbs me and nothing settles.
I am of the condemned sort, I was born with a plague.
It pieces as time tells its tale,
I am of the insomnia struck sort unless out of bed.
I am of a rare breed I'm sorry to brag,
I was cursed with this nonsense from the age of 10.
I don’t love anything conventional,
The moon is only half, I have no one but myself to blame.
I see you sitting on my bed.
' I love you, more than you think..'
This is simple this is innocence,
Very kind, though please restrain yourself.
You have more control than you know.
her words loom making shadows in the dark.
I sit here recoil, it is now 1: 46.
What's the difference.
Please get off my bed,
You left so long ago,
The night is darling my heart unswoon.


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Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening



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Poem Submitted: Monday, October 3, 2011

Poem Edited: Tuesday, October 4, 2011


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