Nights like these should be written about
Summer, the slow count of the clock
A train, rattling, whistling past
Time itself seems to stop
Nights like these deserve poetry
With words far more elegant and sage
These nights make poets of unlikely people
But not of me, I’m afraid
A night like this deserves clarity
But frankly, my mind is a mess
There are words, tangled, on the tip of my tongue
And all others feel meaningless
The truth is too raw to be beautiful
But beauty is so often a lie
This night deserves better poetry; I
Can’t explain what I’m feeling inside
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 4:22 AM UTC
Nights like these should be written about
Summer, the slow count of the clock
A train, rattling, whistling past
Time itself seems to stop
Nights like these deserve poetry
With words far more elegant and sage
These nights make poets of unlikely people
But not of me, I’m afraid
A night like this deserves clarity
But frankly, my mind is a mess
There are words, tangled, on the tip of my tongue
And all others feel meaningless
The truth is too raw to be beautiful
But beauty is so often a lie
This night deserves better poetry; I
Can’t explain what I’m feeling inside