The night was young,
So very young.
The moon bashfully peeped,
From the clouds above.
Still unsure,
If it was her cue,
In what was the longest,
Play in history.

We sat on the roof,
Or was it a veranda?
A whisky in our hand.
The cool white drops,
like silver tears,
The type you're not sure,
Are of joy or pain.
Usually a bit of both.

As I took a sip,
You talked to no one in particular,
About nothing in particular.
Laughing at a joke,
Which only you got.
But I laugh along,
Just to see your smile,
Widen a little more.

A drizzle fills,
Our emptying glass.
Longing for more,
Poisonous lust.

As the bottle drowns,
All our sorrows.
The rain covers us,
To forget tomorrow.

As you grow quit,
And look up above.
The night grows silent,
An exasperated pause.

You sigh and whisper,
A loneful night.
You get up and leave,
Me with the night.

My eyes they follow,
Your every step.
And leave for them,
Nothing but a silhouette.

Goodnight my darling, dearest friend,
As i follow you down.
But to a different end.