How I long for the nights like these
the times when I can muster up the courage to write my feelings down
These nights become rarer and rarer for me.
Sitting on my half sunk in sofa convincing myself to read these live tomorrow night
The kitchen light is on, the porch light is off
Hoping my neighbors peer in my windows from across the street
Maybe they will see my loneliness at 4:30 in the morning.
A young man in boxers and a white t-shirt glaring at his laptop screen with a frown
While his mother sleeps in the room over
Who will wake up in 45 minutes and ask me, "son, why are you still up? Do you realize I'm starting my day?"
And I mutter to myself, "if only you knew"
She will offer me coffee and I'll politely decline and then she'll head to work
And I'll remain here, drunk off my thoughts, high off the Vicodin my doctor prescribed me.
Wondering, what time will I get to sleep?
Where have my friends gone?
But most importantly, how and where you are these days.
Oh, how I long for the nights like these