I like to look
out the window
and count how
many rooms stay
lit
after midnight,
on a sunday night.
how many souls
breathe
despair & anxiety.
how many people
lay
and execrate their
following morning shift.
how many people's
child keeps them
zombified
at night.
how many people
just
don't care...
it's 2 in the morning,
and it's
nice being me.

It’s already midnight.* Go to sleep, dear.
   You have a brand new day ahead of you.
He’s already in his bed,
   dreaming of someone else.
Why are you still wide awake,
   quietly proclaiming your love for him?
The only person who can hear your confession
   is you, the lovestruck insomniac.

from the bed shared

I offer ask,
"would you like me to reheat yours?"

and she answers no hesitation

"no sweetheart, I'm good,"

not realizing she just
simple and easy,
through her sweet goodness,
reheated my love
for her
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