The Night You Lose

You stay up late — you’re having too much fun to stop.
You lie awake — your mind won’t let you go.
One you can close like a book. The other keeps writing itself.
The dark waits either way. Sleep never comes.

You put the phone down. The room goes quiet.
The thoughts circle once, twice — then lose their grip.
Your breath slows. Your body takes what it was owed.
You wake to birdsong, and come back to yourself.

Day fills the mind with dust. Sleep is the quiet broom.
Skip the sweeping — the dust will sweep you.