everything is warm and alive at this time of night.
2 am, while the entirety of the town is resting
my mind is creating stories and projecting memories.

the retrospections are deep and comforting,
offering more to me than sleep ever could.
I see them in shades and hues of red
keeping me warm in a way my bed cannot.

maybe this is better than sleep

maybe I was just meant to think
instead of dream.

we're old souls you & i.
bound by a need to be something beyond ourselves.

i admire that in you.
your struggles, questioning
breathing new life into stale moments.

we're gypsies i'd say, you & i.
the new beatniks
pushing the boundaries of self discovery
fighting with ourselves & conceptions of identity.

we're moving, always
self destructing
running in search of any semblance of truth.

I want you to look into my eyes and see shelter from the storm of society and selfishness that smother our spirits and leaves us broken and alone.

I want you to rest your battle beaten body in my warm embrace and know that the wars of yesterday are over. That you can lay down your arms while taking up mine, leaving the attacking forces behind and staying home to defend that to which your heart has been entrusted.

I want you to hear my voice and know that nothing else matters but we two. To know that calmer, gentler times are on the horizon. Times safe from uncertainty and fear, loneliness and solitude.

I want you to accept my hand in yours and know that, from this moment forth, everything will be alright.