When my lips are dry and my eyes yearn
For the enticing illusion of sleep,
When thoughts drip from my mind like a leaky faucet
Until I am drowning in my own worries,
When the clock on my wall starts to sound more like
A bomb ticking down to zero—
These are the nights that I long for you.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
When my lips are dry and my eyes yearn
For the enticing illusion of sleep,
When thoughts drip from my mind like a leaky faucet
Until I am drowning in my own worries,
When the clock on my wall starts to sound more like
A bomb ticking down to zero—
These are the nights that I long for you.
I always write the most when insomnia gets the best of me.
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