I will never be able to comprehend
the complexity of the night sky,
or what goes on in my brain
when I sit in my parked car
and inhale,
sparked flint stinging my nose,
as the smoke fills my lungs.

Dew seeps into my shirt
as we point and stare and smile
in a mess of wonder up at the
twinkling lights.

I used to run through these nights,
trailing batons beside me.
The moon light fell upon my pale cheeks,
illuminating my fair face.
I’ve long since lost the streamers
and my cheeks have roughened and darkened.
I used to think differently
of these moon drenched evenings.

Missing you has become an
unfortunate side effect of this drug,
(but I still do it to feel good).
When my friends have long since retired
to their beds,
I return home, struggling to keep my eyes open,
and I fall upon my pillow,
eyes wide open,
and my mind settles comfortably
on you.
(Thank you for that,
but I don’t mean it).