3 am

Another old-ish one.

Perhaps peace

will not

come to me in the later hours.

Perhaps it resides
within the linings of our blankets,

or the flint upon a matchbox.
Perhaps peace resides not

within a savings account

or within theses

but in the comfort

of the moments which yield

nothing.
Perhaps peace

lay not upon the lips of lovers

or within our flasks

with cracked seals

and perhaps, 

peace lay not in anything at all.
Perhaps it is we who lay

in peace, and our

distractions in its mask.

Author's Note

Critique away.