Four in the morning

The knife wound of loss
Awakens me from the
tranquility of sleep

Outside my window
A sleeping world watched over
by the guardianship
Of a constant moon.

The only companion this night
The nocturnal whip poor will
Lavender wisps its faint remaining
Fragrance from your pillow.

Loneliness amplified by the night
Grips my heart like a vice.
The afterlife wears a secret shroud.
Please tell me it exist I pray.

Only the answer from
the whip poor will
Filling my ears
Never tell
Never tell
Never tell