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3 a.m.
It's 3 a.m;
another restless night.
The air so heavy it sags from Your presence.
Words whisper in the distance;
they dance in the stillness..
I want to write of the wretched ache of missing You...
Your rooted presence peeling the raw layers...
another restless night.
The air so heavy it sags from Your presence.
Words whisper in the distance;
they dance in the stillness..
I want to write of the wretched ache of missing You...
Your rooted presence peeling the raw layers...
