It isn't here yet, but I know its on it's way
I'm breaking in my bed; I don't know how much more of this I can take
Bad habits are relative, its all about perspective, and that is why I'm restricted...
I've painted myself on my side of the bed
Pretending this black is the back of my eye lids
Trying to dream but instead I long and remember
What is was like when we tangled ourselves under the covers
At least for now I can fake it through the night
Contorting my limbs in a lonely fight
Fending the chill, I will trick myself and say I'm fine
With not sharing the sheets with you anymore
But even the humming that grows in my ear
In the black silent air knows
I'd still opt for the warmth of your body
So it may not be tonight; it might not even be soon
But I'm preparing myself, saving all the sullen words
For that impending night that I shake for you
It isn't here yet, but I know its on it's way...
I have notebooks and letters combining to form
What I plan to be an imperfect sonnet from me
You never quite understood the beauty in pain
You'd rather keep it and me away; that's why I'm here alone
Still trying to dream of the night you return
And we struggle to find a position to sleep
Fixing our bodies like a puzzle's piece
The dream continues...
I know you're not coming
But the night I can't take it much longer is on it's way
The Night of Shakes.