Sleepless Nights

We've become night owls,

although, seperately, we all have always been.

Now we just share the night together.

At nine, we are quiet, unsure of what to say,

of how to get the conversation going,

so we turn on a movie, adding commentary

every now and again throughout.

At midnight, the first questions come out.

Are you scared for the future?

If you could go back, would you?

Do you think you are making the right choice?

What do you want most, right now?

At two, we tire of the serious questions,

which become, is Chris Pratt attractive?

Is Ryan Reynolds? How about Ben Affleck?

Okay, then what do you look for?

What turns you on? What turns you off?

If you had any superpower, what would it be?

What's your favorite drink and

how fast does it take you to get smashed

when you drink said drink?

By four or five, it's quiet again,

but a different sort of silence now,

with the knowledge that every night,

we come closer to filling in the gaps between us.

We part ways only after the suns comes up

and the birds have already started a morning song.

At six, I'm home again, crawling into bed,

to sleep through the day until I see them again that night,

a restful sleep knowing that someone knows me 

better than anyone has ever before. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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