there are some nights when you can’t be asleep you’re out there partying with your friends sipping every glass of champagne jiving to the echoing soundboxes owning the floor, like a dancing queen and then, there are also nights when you should be asleep but you aren’t you’re there on the cold **** floor thinking all of the crazy stuff you did last summer sipping the bottle of beer from the fridge listening to the cringey music from the old record player occasionally tiptoeing, as if waltzing with an imaginary partner and finally, there are nights when no matter how hard you try to sleep for no reason your eyelids won't heed you stare through the dark night, across the ceiling maybe, somehow, you’re awake in someone else's dream he kept saying your name, whispers in the thin air and then you sigh, “oh please, let me sleep.”
they have stopped becoming about voids that smell a little like your perfume; they have stopped becoming about your eyes, and how they show clips of you, leaving. they have stopped becoming about broken clocks forever set to 11:11 wishing for your return.
they have become about a sea of black out poetries and classic movies my younger self never dreamed of watching. they have become about songs I have never heard before.
1 ams have stopped becoming about getting hit by and chasing storms named after you. 2 ams have stopped becoming all about poems written about you; it’s about time i write about myself. 3 ams have stopped becoming all about shaking in pain at the thought of daylights worse than midnights and waking up as an empty shell.
they have become about changing the color of the sunsets and the rains, and hugging silk pillows and praying for strangers a thousand miles away.
who can ever say i’ll know what praying is like again?
my nights have stopped becoming all about you.
now, they’re all about me, and my growth, and my happiness, and my existential crises if they insist on coming along.
so, leave, you’re long overdue; leave, you don’t belong here anymore.