Three twenty AM.

I sit in the narrow hallway outside my room
Low voices carry through thin walls
And locked, hallow metal doors
The steady hum of fluorescent lights
Accompanies the dorm night life-
A soft melody for the lonely dancer.

Three thirty-one AM.

Blood slowly drains from my toes as
The pressure of my laptop on my legs
Holds them hostage from any movement.
Chipped red nail polish an broken nails
Provide the only color on my feet.
Mere memories of carefree days past.

Three thirty-six AM.

Cream colored walls and purplish floors
Provide the stage for this broken heart monologue.
Rude awakenings are the lovers
Of blind-eyed teenage crushes.
Two gifts that only insomnia
And boredom can provide.

Three forty-five AM.