We were the lucky ones.
Smoothing out tired eyes,
Glimpsing starlight through broken blinds
Waiting for the next minuscule earthquake
And on its back, pointless dreams
Just enough to shake us
From any meaningful dreams
Just enough to give us a taste of love.

We were the songs at 3 a.m.
Far too angry and raucous
For how we felt
But we needed clashing drums
And synthetic sounds
To keep us here, so we didn't drift.

We were the bathroom photos
In the early morning hours.
Bleary eyed and emotionally loaded
Snapping away for a memento
Because this doesn't feel real.
Is it real?

We were the facts.
Fact is, I've never felt this good
Fact is, I never do this
Fact is, you make me restlessly reckless
You make me free.

We were the midnight wishers.
You for me, me for you
It all spills out the longer we linger
Punishing our tired minds by withholding sleep.
I wish you were here.

We were the collective
Dreams and hopes
Of the sleepless nights
We were the not-quite-lovers
In the light of a winter moon
We were the lucky ones.