I like the time
Between three and five am.
It is a time
I am pure.

I do not judge,
I do not remember.
I see my life through a memory.
As if it were acted out by some woman
Whom I have only known briefly
An acquaintance.

I see her struggles, I see her hope.
I see her hate, I see her lust.
I see how she has fallen apart
How lonely she feels,
How she isolates herself.
How she doesn’t trust.
Even the ones she loves.

I see the grudges she holds,
I see the mistakes
She keeps under her skin.

I see her fight the memories of a person
She cannot stop pondering.
I see how she hates herself for it.
I see how she hates him.

But I do not understand.
Why she insists on war.
And why she cannot lay down her pride.
To accept the wrong committed
On both sides of the field.
And forgive.
And trust again.
I don’t understand why
She refuses to take him back.
For she may never see the sun rise
Again if she doesn’t.
She is unhappy.
And I know she will be happy
If honesty comes into play
And mistakes are forgotten as the past
No black or white
Only grey.

If he were to ask for acceptance now,
I would grant him permission
Into my life again.
For between 3 and 5 am,
All is forgiven,
And I welcome all
Because there exists no history
Nor a future.
It is just the present.
And I welcome all.

One thought on “Three and Five

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