I crave these nights. The quiet nights.
I plan. I plot. I imagine.
I trick myself into thinking the hours will stretch as long as I want them to.
Jacked up thinking, in reality.
Because the quiet becomes too quiet. It turns on me.
Makes me question those cravings. My thoughts. My life.
The quiet gets so loud my head rings
Almost like a hangover but without the fun that came first.
Reminding me that what I want isn’t quite what I have. At least not yet.
Then they are gone, the quiet nights.
So I mourn them. Fantasize their return.
And start the cycle again.
Linking up with Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop today. This post inspired by prompt #2: Write a post in just 12 lines.