It’s one of those nights when all the memories take physical form.
When monsters swallow kindness to retch sadness and nostalgia.
The kind of night where I can feel my bones break with every passing minute I’m awake.
A rush of memories replay,
memories that leave a hole in my heart.
Words like worthless and hideous are placed upon my forehead.
It’s the kind of the night with the heater on so high
that the warmth turns into burns and wrinkled flesh.
And the memories play.
Like your smile is still etched into my brain.
Or I remember what your voice sounds like at two in the morning. It’s on repeat.
Or that my bed smells like roses
and the sweater you gave me
and those late night phone calls,
I still can’t remember who hung up first.
The kind of night that involves waiting
for scaly arms to drown me in my own intoxicated misery.
it’s another night that I regret everything.
It’s a night where I ache to try again.
The kind of night
I’ll ever find an adventure grand enough
to soothe these hell raising thoughts.
It’s that kind of night.
And it’s too late to be awake.