4am

Just a little something I wrote in the grip of insomnia.

Silence is:
deserted street at 4am
aeroplane lights flashing
mutely in the distance
stolen moments outside my window
as I draw deeply on an illicit cigarette
watching my world sleep
knowing that nobody watches me
in these purest of moments
watching the cigarette glow
with every breath
and burning rose-scented incense to mask the smell.