I see things much clearer in the dark.
I like to look at passing headlights through my window as if they're stars.
I like to look at you as if you can save me.
I like to imagine you outside waiting for me.
But you're not Romeo, and I'm not Juliet.
You're probably standing by your window enjoying a cigarette.
And maybe tomorrow, or the day after that, I'll cross your mind.
Maybe by then, I would have found some piece of mind.
- - -
So there I was, lying in the darkness and turning another random thought into a poem about you. It all leads back to you, and I can hardly remember what I was like before you came along. Like any other obsession, it didn't feel like I was giving you a piece of me, rather, I felt as though a part of me had always been with you.
