It's 3 A.M.
It’s 3 A.M.
As he restlessly lays in his bed,
Recalling all of the things that were said,
He thinks maybe the end is upon him.
And so he relives the past with a pensive heart,
Remembering everything from the start,
How exciting and rapturous their love was.
From the first playful gaze,
To her alluring playful ways,
And the kiss that left him aching for more.
So as he let the love seep away,
Wondering if he may live to love another day,
He stops and reflects on her face one last time.
And closes his eyes
As his soul dies,
To haunt her no more.
© 2017 Augustine A Zavala