Seeing you always occurs in the late hours,
when all is still and we should be sleeping,
like the rest of the city.
Is it out of a natural exhaustion of the mind
that makes it so easy for us to lose our inhibitions,
to do what we do?
Never tired, always wired when we’re together,
always ready to take it too far—
to take on the night.
Perhaps that’s why each memory of you is fading,
blurry and coming back like deja vu,
like a dream that we should’ve had while sleeping.
If it’s any consolation, every hour lost with you was utterly, completely worth it,
and I’d rather have these sheer, fleeting memories over all the lost dreams.