why do I stay up so late
where the monsters
of what could have
and what should have
linger
why do I stay up so late
crying over spilt milk
and conversations
buried in the past
why do I stay up so late
when I know
that you reside
in those early, wine-soaked
morning hours
why do I stay up so late
and fret
about the future,
while I’m in the present
why do I stay up so late
when,
just like cinderella,
the strike of midnight
should be my cue
to cut off all emotions
and enjoy a pumpkin ride back home
why do I stay up so late
when I know
that I miss you
and it hurts the most
when I’m alone at 2am
why do I stay up so late
when breakfast is just around the corner,
and decisions made at 7am
are much more manageable
to obtain
why do I stay up so late
when I know better