Breathing is fragile
It can end at 4am
As a late phone call of words that are unsaid
As a number that changes what I am

From the routine of the next day
to the new  formless way
you will not be to see me stay
 
From the sleepless night ahead
to days you cannot get out of bed
for plans that remain in the air
are never seen

From the air around you
to the air within
If I had to choose
I'd choose at 3
but It has already changed
as he no longer lives

after 4a.m.