I got a man who makes me wanna oh!... I got a man who makes me wanna kill.
and we're all gonna burn in hell...
Sometimes, late at night, I lay awake and think of you. I curl up under the blankets and close my eyes hard, to the point where I am focused on keeping the lids down. This is when I become fully aware that sleep will not come for a long while, and that I must endure the silence and the noise of your laughter in my ears. I used to hate your laugh. I thought it was the most obnoxious sound the human senses could tolerate. Coupled with my own, however, we made a beautiful harmony. That is all I hear when I lay awake at night, and I spin headlong down the drain and into my thoughts, my memories of you.
I remember the days we spent at the beach last summer. We ran down to the shore, our feet on fire from the blazing sun on the sand. I shrieked as the cold water hit my body and wrapped itself around me like icy arms. And I, your short, tiny little girl, could barely touch bottom in places where you were standing firmly. You held me and I clung to your body. You kept me warm and made me smile. We ran out of the water and back to the blankets and stared at each other as the lake dripped off of our skin. I asked you what would happen next, and you told me not to worry. And I didn't, because you were mine and there was a month until I had to go back to school.
You were my obvious secret, my worst-told lie, and I dripped the candy of deceit from my tongue when I told them we were 'not involved'.
Remember that one night, when I told my mother I was at a girlfriend's? I had been driving for hours around cleveland and was in my prettiest dress. Your parents were out of town, and I snuck in at three a.m. and crawled into your bed with you. I woke you up like a petulant child at dawn and we twisted ourselves into the sheets until noon. You made me pancakes and burned them, and they tasted horrible. I loved them.
I loved YOU. I miss you so much, and I know that I can never have you, except for these times at night when I can still hear us laughing together, still feel us breathing and our hearts beating in sync. I can pretend that my bed is empty because you have gotten up for a drink at four and will come back to me soon. If I close my eyes and shut the lids tight, I am pretending to be asleep, waiting to scare you when you return and giggle with all of my soul.
Here's to midnight, and here's to you.
Sometimes, late at night, I lay awake and think of you. I curl up under the blankets and close my eyes hard, to the point where I am focused on keeping the lids down. This is when I become fully aware that sleep will not come for a long while, and that I must endure the silence and the noise of your laughter in my ears. I used to hate your laugh. I thought it was the most obnoxious sound the human senses could tolerate. Coupled with my own, however, we made a beautiful harmony. That is all I hear when I lay awake at night, and I spin headlong down the drain and into my thoughts, my memories of you.
I remember the days we spent at the beach last summer. We ran down to the shore, our feet on fire from the blazing sun on the sand. I shrieked as the cold water hit my body and wrapped itself around me like icy arms. And I, your short, tiny little girl, could barely touch bottom in places where you were standing firmly. You held me and I clung to your body. You kept me warm and made me smile. We ran out of the water and back to the blankets and stared at each other as the lake dripped off of our skin. I asked you what would happen next, and you told me not to worry. And I didn't, because you were mine and there was a month until I had to go back to school.
You were my obvious secret, my worst-told lie, and I dripped the candy of deceit from my tongue when I told them we were 'not involved'.
Remember that one night, when I told my mother I was at a girlfriend's? I had been driving for hours around cleveland and was in my prettiest dress. Your parents were out of town, and I snuck in at three a.m. and crawled into your bed with you. I woke you up like a petulant child at dawn and we twisted ourselves into the sheets until noon. You made me pancakes and burned them, and they tasted horrible. I loved them.
I loved YOU. I miss you so much, and I know that I can never have you, except for these times at night when I can still hear us laughing together, still feel us breathing and our hearts beating in sync. I can pretend that my bed is empty because you have gotten up for a drink at four and will come back to me soon. If I close my eyes and shut the lids tight, I am pretending to be asleep, waiting to scare you when you return and giggle with all of my soul.
Here's to midnight, and here's to you.