Late Nights,,
It’s these late nights
When the sky is black and the stars are hiding
And the fog waits with baited breath
For the return of its enemy the sun,
That i think of you most
When i sit in front of the television,
The lights turned off and my rationality off too,
That my subconscious thoughts drift to you
How i wish these dark circles under my eyes
Were from staying up with you
And not from the lack of sleep and sanity
How i wish my tangled hair
Was the doing of your long fingers combing through it
And not my carelessness in brushing it
How i wish the mess in the kitchen
Was from baking with you and not from frantically rummaging through the cupboards, searching for something that could possibly cleanse the aftertaste your mouth left on mine
And no matter what soap i use,
I can’t wash off the feeling of your fingers on my skin
And no matter what song i play,
Your voice is the one stuck in my head
-e.g.
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