N.I.G.H.T.S.

I close my eyes.
Escaping.
In to that soft cotton.
Behind my eyelids.
Sleep is embracing.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The dawn brings back the light.

It’s dark and I walk through the woods.
The moss devours my rubber boots.
I like the sound.
It’s the only sound beside the rustling of the trees.
The night reshapes everything again, gives it new names and contours.
Everything dirty becomes invisible or beautiful for a while.
All the clean and the clear is sleeping.
I put my hand to the ground.
The sky is resting on my head.

We’re pretending to be vampires just to get to taste it.
Biting in arms, fingers, shoulders.
We’re on the floor in a garage.
With lips.
In a garage.
On the floor.
We did nothing.

The river is calm now, at least on the surface.
Clouds are covering the moon.
Somewhere there is a light, but not here.
I dream that everything is forgiven.

Midsummer.
A man singing My Funny Valentine.
A lone couple dancing in the barn.
I’m twelve and I feel grown up.
Everyone has flowers in their hair.
The grass is wet from the dew.
It’s half past one and already getting light.
Days are getting shorter but we don’t think about that right now.

I’m dancing.
I’m dancing.
I have never danced this much.
Getting blisters on my feet.
Not noticing.
I’m dancing.

Stay up all night.
Talk about stuff.
Everything feels important.
But it’s not.

Christmas decorations and piano stools.
Tea and sandwiches.
Old school books.
Heirlooms.
Garage sale.
The clock always slightly ahead.
The street quiet even though it’s Saturday.
What did become of it all.
The kiss on the street.
The tall & slender boy.
The neighbour lady.
Making out in the laundry basement.
Bright nights and endless longing.
Everything’s the same.
Everything’s different.
The eurovision song contest without sound and the right song wins.
The sofa is worn.
Grandma’s grand piano.
The smell of instant coffee.
Biking to the sea.

Time rushes forward like a fast train and I’ve booked an SMS ticket.