Literature
An Autumn Star
Dark morning, monitor bright;
drowsy from drugs, weak and weary,
three a.m. sits uneasy with me.
Silently, thoughtfully,
I count pictures of you I'm not a part of,
chill of the moon falling on my shoulders.
It takes less time than expected.
You were so beautiful,
aloof and shining like a golden sun;
I cringe with each new revelation,
reaching out to touch your face through the screen.
Heat rises in me, apart from the cool of the night --
even with the mountain air on my breath,
your smile still does things to me I can't explain.
Maybe it's the medicine talking,
maybe it's the lateness of the hour,
or maybe it's just my imagination,
but I
