Before Dawn

I stay up and dream about empty things.

Meaningless things.

Faces I'll never know,

Names I'll never speak,

Stories I will never hear,

And words I won't taste.

.

I stay up to press my fingers to the pulse

Of my loneliness.

I take its temperature at midnight

To ensure I am not getting too warm.

I am freezing.

To death.

.

That's what I am supposed to do,

Freeze

Before dawn.

I'm supposed to let the cold

Crystalize

The soft bits of me and crumple

My butterfly wings.

.

My heart beats with the slowing rhythm

Of imperfections stacked

One on top of another.

Even in the dark, I wonder

If this is the way it should be

Or if I am ruthlessly

Failing the sunrise.