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The hallway light at 2 a.m.
Falls under my door in a narrow line
Someone passed a minute ago
Then the building went still again
The elevator gave one sigh
Then settled somewhere out of reach
I stood barefoot on the kitchen tile
Listening for a thought to leave
Hallway light at 2 a.m.
Thin and pale across the floor
Everything I could not name
Looks smaller than it did before
No one calls and no one knocks
No big scene, no sudden end
Just that strip of borrowed light
And this hour I’m sitting in
A glass of water by the sink
A coat still hanging by the wall
The kind of night that keeps its shape
Even when nothing happens at all
The city feels a block away
Like it belongs to someone else
I hear the pipes behind the paint
I hear the room return to itself
Hallway light at 2 a.m.
Thin and pale across the floor
Everything I could not name
Looks smaller than it did before
No one calls and no one knocks
No big scene, no sudden end
Just that strip of borrowed light
And this hour I’m sitting in
Maybe peace is quiet like this
Not relief, not joy, not fire
Just a breath that stays unbroken
Just a night that asks for less
Maybe I can let things rest
Where they are without a fight
Maybe I do not need to solve
What survives the latest hour
Hallway light at 2 a.m.
Thin and pale across the floor
Everything I could not name
Looks smaller than it did before
No one calls and no one knocks
No big scene, no sudden end
Just that strip of borrowed light
And this hour I’m sitting in
Hallway light at 2 a.m.
Still beneath the door
I do not chase the dark tonight
I let it be what it is for
