These Hours

These hours are the ones that crawl
burrowing beneath my thickened skin
The ones of midnight morning’s edges
of silence and all the thoughts that lie within

These hours are the ones that ache
the razor edges of my heart
the extremities of my bones and skin
creak and moan again

And you think you know, you think you see
but you can’t. You just can’t.
And you think that one day it will ache so much less
but it won’t. It just won’t.

These hours where I lay awake
wondering why, and where, and how
you couldn’t overcome your fate
you couldn’t, and I don’t know how

So many hours
so many tears
so many days without you here

These hours are the ones that keep me awake
These hours are the ones that hurt the most.

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