Sleepless Nights
I keep wondering what life is suppose to be about. Climbing into bed as the evening sun starts to set an the stars come pourin' out with the night. 6pm arrives quicker than the late night hour an the morning hours before that. To think, I'd be exhausted from only a few hours of sleep an 8hrs of writing, but my body has never understood loss because I'm still grieving a whole lot in my life.
There he goes, stripping down to nothing, but his underwear to dive into a pool of girls, but he hasn't been in a pool in two an half years because, one night he almost drowned underneath the late night stars an ever since then, nothing was ever the same. He saw a face in the dark water he wanted to know better, so he jumped.
If life's all about dry skin an wet clothes, count me out. I think if life's all about skin an wet clothes, count me in and don't ever let me out.
He told me, life's all about 3am diners and forgetting about dates he went on two years ago with chicks he crushed on so hard. Told him, I understand cause I've been there a few times, but I don't understand why life has become all about ignoring happiness and expecting pain.
If he told me, life is about this poem and the emptiness in this, then I'd make the most out of it when I know nothing exciting would come from it.
Life should be about loving one another or the person you're with, but I still lie here and keep wondering if this feeling's pathetic. My life and my so called best friend are both compulsive liars, but maybe she keeps doing this because the truth is, there's nothing in her life, but her bruised ego.
Copyright © Stevie Yost | Year Posted 2015
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