You’re sitting in the corner of someone else’s
Living room by yourself
And this is the night that you do not
This is the night that you let
The laugher and the people
Melt around you into sticky sepia.
This is the night that you refuse to
Try to be anything but ice.
This is the night that you correct him,
That you tell him the he will not seeya later,
That actually he never did see you at all.
You will uproot all the poison that was
Sinking thorns into your tender soul
And you will dump the remnants on his doorstep,
Tell him he planted it, so he can water it.
this is the night that you stand up to her;
That you rip the definitions of ‘stoic’
Down from the walls of your insides
And you unleash all the ugly;
a pack of wild dogs running in moonlight;
And you will shake until the wounds heal.
This is the night
That you stop being an idea;
A cultivation. you will walk home
By yourself unabashedly beneath
The stars, who exist billions of miles
Apart from each other
Without so much as flickering.
This is the night when you realise
That you are far too human
To live up to expectations.
This is reality. Welcome.