Nothing to distract you from
giggling points of light in the otherwise
daunting black of night,
taunting glow
Quivering blithely as if God himself is teasing you,
shaking these glimmering possibilities in front of your face.
You could believe that you're squinting at possible realities,
or you could cynically accept that they're all illusions
and the only reality is
this.
but midnight is so cold and monotonous
without a warm body to give it context,
and I think-
I think that I miss you now.
Or some two dimensional caricature of you,
The one that resides in my head because
you're no longer here to give it volume.
Memories are feelings and memories alone fade,
feelings just latch onto other things.
(Like tonight)
and we then romanticize trivial, inanimate things.
Ideas, places, not people no, too
dangerous.