Nights

Nights are beautiful. Nights are peaceful. Nights are quiet. Nights are almost still.
Nights are what I have been living on for years.
Nights are secrets. I have had too many secret nights.
Nights are what I need to go through my days. Days are normally too overwhelming for me.
I'll replay what happened in the nights again and again in my mind until the memory fades and a new one sets in.
The world is just different without the blinding sunlight.
The orange hue along the streets is enough.
I try and remember every moment in my secret nights as vividly as I can.
I used to write down every detail in my diary.
But secrets grew darker and writing becomes more difficult.
Now, I just write secret nights inside my mind.
As I replay current nights, I try and capture those memories that are running away.
How much space can one heart reserve for secrets anyway?
I'm sure I must have lost some memories already.
Nights are my moments.
No one would ever know what really happened.
So when my memory forsakes me, those that I once had would never be known.
Not even to myself...