it’s 2 am here
and it’s 2 am where you are
i don’t love you;

i hate that we both shiver at
the same bar of the same song
the same seven words.

and i hate the millions of melodies
that i’ll always associate with our summer
and the autumn that didn’t belong to anyone.

but i love your voice when you’re not speaking my language.
sing me to sleep in your language and i’ll love you in mine.

and i love the music you send me.
it sounds best at 2 am
when my toes are cold and you’re in
the midnight sun.