There is a lack of anything brilliant
and I let you make it that way.
You are obsessive and cold;
I was reeled in.

Time passes, an eon ensues
and I still can't lie down.
I'm oppressed and growing older;
I was cajoled by you.

There is a warmth in my arms,
and he is my beacon.
You are a memory, old.
I was right.

Time goes on with me
and without me, you do too.
There is only one thing left,
one thing that is still you.

Night.

My days turned Night.