These Nights Are For Me

The nights are for me; the solitude is my comfort.
Regularly taking myself to places that bring only pain.
Yet I face them head-on, and they do set me free.
Forgetting, for now, your needs and wants of the day.
I’ll wake in the dawn and reapply this makeup.
But it’s time to unwind; these nights are for me.

The nights are for me; the darkness calms my nerves.
Nightly rituals of pills and alcohol temporarily halt this unbearable existence.
Poring over cards and letters and knickknacks left behind.
In and out of awareness, laughs become tears, prayers become pleads.
With all this confusion, it’s a wonder how I even make it into bed.
But it’s the way this life unfolded; these nights are for me.

The nights are for me; the shadows tell me they’re my friends.
Libraries of shoeboxes catalog a lifetime of memory.
Losing myself, I do, in different adventures from various eras.
These recreated images are all I have to fill the gaps between these empty moments.
Her smiles bring complete peace and tremendous pain in a single breath.
The good, the bad, these nights are for me.

The nights are for me; there’s no need to hide behind this daily façade. 
Instead, I get high on the highlights of life that I wish I were still living.
Briefly, I am, able to refuse the life I am now forced to lead.
Feeling like a traitor each time I try to force a hollow smile.
Don’t be disappointed; these days are just lies.
But the twilight provides an escape; these nights are for me.

The nights are for me, these brief respites from reality.
Tomorrow my sleep-deprived, hungover body will remind me that the nightmare continues.
The morning sunlight, uninvited, will burn with intensity.
Clear blue skies will give way to the misery that instantly invades each of my body’s pores.
Questions of why uttered continually, unanswered they are each time.
Those realities put on hold; these nights are for me.  

The nights are for me; these liquors know me by name.
A year has passed, yet it feels just like just yesterday.
It’s just that I’ve yanked the phone from the wall.
And I’ve overturned the front porch welcome mat.
I’ve forever rejected everybody’s invitations.
I prefer to be alone; these nights are for me.

The nights are for me, my surroundings familiar.
I can’t do much else; I’m just too tired to try.
I’ve ignored the word of wiser people; I’m just too weak to listen.
The shaking ceases to stop; I’m just too scared to care.
This tear-soaked pothole has become the only comfort I know.
The time is now; these nights are for me.