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