drunk on the stars

here i am again, drunk under this lamplight

the stars are my scotch

and the birds are my bourbon.

the perfect mix of night and day

like those colours in your eyes that clash, yet coexist so smoothly.

two sides. of the same story.

a story that i whisper as though it’s a secret in disguise. but secrets and lies aren’t the same.

withhold or tell.

i feel giddy under this lamp light

the stars and birds do that, you see

intoxicating.

it’s the only word that is adequate

something about the danger, the risk

draws me in

it makes my head spin.

your eyes tell lies.

because the words they express are not the ones you form

with your tongue.

some things are what they’re not.

i have no need for any of that,

so why don’t i stop?

the lamp is oh so high

and the light is oh so heavy

as it settles on my eyes.

the street is silent.

no secrets, no truths, no lies.

just light.

the stars are settling into their beds, cosily tucked away under the dark blanket of the night.

the two worlds in your eyes

collide.

here I am again, under this lamplight.