Childish

A motorbike speeds in the distance,
it’s 1am and my thoughts are of you.

Wind blows chimes and my cigarette
as I stand by the window.

I belong here tonight.

A minor crime, a minor slip,
it’s nothing compared to the promise I still keep.

Cars find their way home,
neighbours sleep,
and I stand vigil once more.

Pages of letters,
confessions,
feelings,
words I wrote and emotions I felt.

The cold air keeps me awake,
and I lean on the frame as this town says goodnight.

Do I belong?

Questions I ask myself.

Am I still a child,
despite all my efforts?

(c) 2008

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