it's late into the night 

I can feel my pointless rumination 

feeling the crevice in my skull

and at times like this, 

I don't even bother to try to dismiss it 

the tug of familiarity 

from your touch and smell 

wakes my mind up from where it's suppose to be sleeping 

and I long for you to spoil me 

with the long dated consistency 

you used to give me

but it's too late, 

now that I've jammed right into reality. 

and I admit you're not who I want you to be 

more importantly, 

that some names will always taste bitter