Words come at night

I no longer expect to sleep

The words come at night

A boundless amount of them to keep


So many stories to tell

I grab one with my fingers and put it to paper before it swirls back in with the rest.

Rest. I thrive on so little of it.

Words come at night.


Days are filled with movement,

leaving too little time to let forth the thoughts that desire to be written.

An idea here, a memory there

A story filled with feelings I wish never to bear.


I cannot escape them though

I must share to rid them from my soul

For if I were to close my eyes

they would haunt me in my dreams  


A blank page seen by my eyes alone 

Illuminated by the faint glowing of the moon’s light.

Enough for me to let out a small amount of what I need to say,

as my words come at night.