# three a.m., no witnesses

The kettle clicks off before it screams.
I drink it black because sugar makes noise
in a mouth that's trying to stay unnoticed.

The neighbor's dog knows I'm awake.
He doesn't bark, just shifts his weight
against the fence like he's guarding
something he can't name either.

Somewhere a phone lights up for someone
who isn't me. Good.
I wasn't built for being reached.