Edges of night’s reach

The water glass teetered,

a slow spill onto unread books,

pages curling with damp.

The cracked phone screen caught light,

a fractured mirror of small defeats.

Scattered papers caught the lamplight,

fraying edges like tired thoughts.

I caught the mess, paused,

finger tracing the rim of the glass,

and in that moment

felt the edges of the night

creep close,

a quiet weight pressing against the dark.