Shoulder Associations.
You know when you just have to go? Things are good, your friends are there, the music is alright and you find yourself sitting in a giant tee pee watching everybody smoke weed but you, and the night and the air are close to perfect. You danced a little, hugged a little, talked a little, made some more of those last connections with the friends who are leaving you soon, and even saw that pretty girl you kind of always wish you were into, because she gives you those nice compliments and has the shiniest, boniest shoulders you've ever laid eyes on, always turning the bones to face you when she calls your name. You witnessed a smile come out of your brother's mouth that you hadn't seen in a while, and you even felt for a moment about how that Hercules and the Love Affair song you always used to hate wasn't so bad after all. And while the night was luke warm, but in a good way, the way the water in an inflatable pool is after it's been sitting in the sun all day and is finally ready for you to get in it, even though the moment of desire has long passed, you have to go. You have to go because this isn't going to get epic, the sky isn't going to open up and drop a giant anvil of good vibes on your night, and you certainly aren't going to miss anything. Especially that big after-party that is inevitable, and would inevitably lead to hurt feelings of some kind, along with bored gestures and conversations with people too fucked up to even get near your reality. You just have to go home, make peace, find the love of your bed and mint colored sheets, wash your face, and write yet another diary entry about how much that boy in a far away place with an occupied mind and way too much amazing bits to offer your pieces is with someone who's not you. Contentment is the name of the game, and you are in it. He's in your heart and head though, and that's why you just had to go tonight. The disco was cut short so you could come home and imagine the details your bed might accrue if he were to ever lie in it. Where his head would fall on the pillow and the hair it would leave, how his angular shoulders would indent the mattress, how his breath would smell when it hung in the air next to yours.
You should go to bed, so these ordinary dreams of sleeping next to the one you told you loved after four days could come to fruition in your buzzing, understimulated mind.