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.