Two a.m.
And I stare up towards the ceiling
At a moth circling my light bulb.
I wonder what is so attractive
About my tiny glass sun
And am curious to know
Where the moth will go
When the sun burns out.
And as I stare at this moth
Hypnotized, determined in love,
I debate whether or not I lied to you,
As I slip my hand into my pillowcase
Searching for a sleeping pill
The same size and shape
As Manhattan.