even in the darkness of 5 am wounds can be shouted awake and the aching numbness that fills the silence after still burns within the subconscious of a dream there is little starlight as you look out into the sleeping neighborhood, only a few lights spot the houses and you wonder what words are being spoken under another’s slanted roof few dogs are found pacing the confines of their fences and you wait patiently for yours to do his duty so you can return to the warm softness of your pillow and cocoon yourself within the quilt even if he returns to the spot on the couch where his head constantly indents the throw pillow, at some point you know he may return, but in the darkness of now you find you may not care and you wonder as night stretches into morning and your wounds close, if for just this moment, you’ll still wonder what the dawn will bring; silence, or the continued hope of a little understanding