2:30

the quiet crept into my ears
and became my favourite blanket
nearby lampposts illuminated the
falling snow
at 2:30 am
my cigarette became gin and tonic
my legs became cushions
the cold became home
if the city was on fire
the snowflakes would be mixed with ash
but they stayed clean
expectedly
for sirens didn't belong that night
just me and the sky and the snow
me, perched on a concrete step
the sky, shaking of crisp white dust
the snow, drifting lazily to kiss the ground

in my mind i held you
and i held you
then you were gone.