Late Night Soul Searching

It's 4 a.m., it seems I'm the only soul awake in the world. The sky is a heavy tarp of darkness, I searched for the moon. But I can't see it from my view, I can't sleep though I close my eyes Selected pictures dance and rise, my eyelids flutter; I see your face. I open them and produce a bitter taste. Now, here I am with pen in hand, trying to write you out of my system, and forget your face that's so delicate. Writing means thinking and I do it anyway; every day. What's done cannot be undone, what is said can not be unsaid. I wipe it off as a tear begins to fall, lost my soul with that splendid traitors kiss Like the kiss of Judah Iscariot. You have my heart, and it's begun to rot. Now my eyes are getting heavy, still gripping this BIC pen. I'm trying to write you out of my system. But the torment just begins ...