The week is ending.
Weekend nightlife rises.
From a week's death.
Dark overthrows the day.
Rain is trying to make its way.
Wind and moon fighting over the nightshift.
Your heart vows.
No matter the obvious nature brawls;
Can't sleep in.
In need of some midas touch.
To moisture your weeks scorch.
So you reach for the scotch.
It dives with urgency in your mouth.
Awakening your taste buds.
Refuels your heart pound.
As it dissolves past your dusty throat.
One for the road.
Jiggles your brain about.
Exploring your sudden need some company.
With some good souls drenched in funny.
It then occurs.
You can dial your mates at home.
Say, I can't have fun alone.
But.
You stop your own fingers.
Due to this thought that lingers.
After the hellos and hugs.
The how have you beens get plugged.
It is then that times drags.
As graves of time passed are re dug.
You decided against such.
And the next bus home you catch.
Thanks for stopping by, come again soon! ^^ Black Queen
RESTEEM. UPVOTE. FOLLOW.
Pics from pixabay.com
