March 21, 2017

I want you at 3 a.m.

3 a.m. strikes, stillness resounds, heavy rain pours down, and I ache for you.

I am somewhere between the darkness and light, and I’m thinking of having you here with me.

I want you next to me in these moments when sleep calls—when nothing makes sense, but we are alive with thirst and desire.

I want your hunger pulling my hips in close, as your body yearns to tell me how intensely you crave me too.

Come with me to a mesmerizing, hidden other world.

A mysterious place where reality blurs, and the stars set possibility on fire.

There will be softened shadows, delicate whispers, and lost, stolen, timeless hours.

We can lie beneath the moon, watch the wolves roam, and listen to the forest shake and groan.

Our curious fingertips will gently trace along naked curves and storm-weathered lines, soothing old, intriguing battle scars.

We will leave imprints of our love to linger and stain the enchanting night sky.

We can bottle the essence to reopen and drink whenever melancholy haunts.

We can escape the shards of loneliness by gazing out at constellations, while nibbling on the sharp edges of our dreams.

We will free-fall madly into one another with an incurable addiction to the elegant and harmonious way our immortal souls dance.

We will blindly trust in this scattered love, as our bones entwine, and our chemically charged bodies touch, writhing in the connection of skin on skin.

As the night fades, fragments of cosmic dust will penetrate to bewilder and confuse our restless minds.

Stay next to me, as we drift through the fragile night, watching how darkness tenderly chases after light.

I come unchained whenever you are near—temporarily bewitched, as you effortlessly erase every tattered, terrified piece of me.

You teach me how to fiercely open and fearlessly feel again.

Meet me on the horizon, as always, around 3 a.m.

I’ll be waiting somewhere far away—in purgatory, in between those silent, make-believe hours.

Kiss me with passion and conviction there—where dusk dissolves into mist, offering itself entirely to the faithful hands of dawn.




Author: Alex Myles

Image: Crazy, Stupid, Love screenshot

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

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