30 past 9

the clock hits 30 past 9 at night 

the house is still, void of life

my head fills with sounds of laughter

and my skin feels the ghost of the burning sun

i see their faces when i close my eyes

i hear their voices in my ears in the silence

nevertheless in that single moment

i can hear my mind whisper

i have always been someone worth loving

i have always been worth anything at all.