The quiet solitude of the night
does not call me to mourn lost loves,
old wraiths I held prisoner
so they could torment me.
The past is dealt with,
clarity comes to my heart
like it's been thoroughly refined,
impurities purged by flame.
The night is a celebration,
a chorus of quiet voices
sing through my headphones
as I lie alone in a warm bed.
Back to dancing like a fool
while the reasonable world sleeps,
this freedom is so welcoming
though it's been years since we met.
No, I'm not restless,
burdened by thoughts of wasted time
all the things I “should” be doing
like a student during exams.
I'm on top of it all, trust me,
the night is just my home,
a home no longer haunted
by the beating of a broken heart.
-Zero
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