midnight.
when i begin
spitting nonsense.
i wonder if
i'm drunk on
the night
when i revel
in the fact
that i love
how i write
poetry.
i can't stay up
past two a.m.
but i love it here.
i'll be the one
that'll ask you
to sit and watch
the waves dance
with me.
i won't be the one
to ask you for
a long walk
breaking my heels
sweating the sky
shamelessly
worrying about
my next step.
the only thing
i enjoy sewing
are heartstrings.
so talk away.
talk me into
next week.
