The Last Place to Rest

Take a minute, watch me close—
do you think it’s alright?
Would you let me stay
when the stars are bruised
and my heart unravels in the dark?
I could sleep here, if you’d have me,
in the cradle of your quiet breath.

You can trust me not to drink tonight,
though the bottle’s call
is softer than the words
I struggle to say.
I might let you down—
a promise broken,
a shipwreck adrift
on the tides of your patience.

I blew a hole
where tomorrow should be,
scattering dreams like fallen leaves.
But we could find someone
to take my place,
someone whole,
someone new,
someone who won’t crumble in your hands.

But there’s nowhere left to go,
no streetlights bright enough
to guide me away.
And you—
you’re the best I’ve ever had,
the closest I’ve come
to feeling like home.

So here I stand—
empty pockets, trembling hands,
hoping you’ll take me in
just one more time—
before the dawn breaks,
before I’m lost again
to the night.