It's midnight and it's silent,
Just the roar of passing vehicles
Every ten minutes or so.
And a shouting man
Perhaps of being too drunk.
And it would've been pitch black,
If it wasn't for the light from the window.
Now I hear the drops of rain as it touches the roof,
Have you ever wondered
If these raindrops were the tears of our loved ones
in heaven?
or the souls who couldn't enter heaven?
Funnily, it could also be ***,
Of a larger being on top of Earth.

But in reality,

It's midnight and it's not silent.
It's the time when you hear more of what surrounds you,
Even what's inside you.
Your heartbeat,
Your growling stomach,
The voices in your head.
It's the sadness and pain behind that man's scream.
The rush of the vehicles passing,
Their desire to go home,
The rush of holding their beloved in their arms.
Say, close your eyes,
Now you see pitch black,
And some memories
You wish you could relive.

— j.n.

Alcohol could literally save me now.

But you told me that it tastes too bad for you.

Oh yes, it does really taste bad. Specifically, it's an awful kind of bitter.

But alcohol was supposed to taste that way, isn't it?

An awful kind of bitter? No, alcohol was supposed to taste bitter, only bitter.

What do you mean?

You haven't drank real alcohol, do you? Yes, it's awful and disgusting, but addicting. The moment the bottle touched my lips, it felt cold. The moment this fiery liquid touched my lip, crawled into my mouth, took ahold of my tongue, and slithered down my throat, God, it burned me until it ached. Its burning hands held mine, reminded me of the way you held my hand every night. What was once warm turned into scorch. What was once there is already gone. Ah, it blinded me away from what was false, made me see the truth. I ached for home, I ached for the tiny planet we once created solely for the two of us. You aren't here anymore. Tell me if you left, if you're ever coming back. But if you are still here, in our tiny planet, let me feel your presence. Our love, ardent, young, and swift. The alcohol never lied.

What made you think that I stopped loving you?

The alcohol did, my love.