It is saying something, listen.

It speaks
The night.
It speaks to me, late at night.
When the sky misses its sun.
It tells me about how much it wants the light,
Back.
It speaks to me.
Sometimes, it cries,
In the form of drizzle.
Sometimes, it weeps,
In the form of rain.
And I touch its tears with mine,
It feels so connected.
No wonder why it speaks to me.
I feel, it does not speak to anybody else,
The night.
There is a heavy pain in our hearts,
We share with each other,
His is related to love,
Mine,
Just about everything.
I never liked the night before.
I thought it only had monsters and,
Scary things.
But it is the night which makes us,
Think about the day.
Always.
It is the night,
Which keeps me alone,
Gives me my,
Peace of mind,
When it is in pieces.
It is in the night when,
My shadow leaves me alone,
To give me,
Me.
The night is often,
Scary.
Which hurts it even more.
It weeps to me,
About the Day.
It wants the light too,
Like everybody else.