How Is It Not Night?

How is it not night, when,
The moon refuses to go away and accept I do not love it anymore..
Its light usually beams on my face, and my eyes would get bigger,

Looks as though there has been an accident in the sky cause usually raindrops would fall.

It is most probably night when
 I sit near the window, gazing at the same moon I claim to hate while scribbling sex thoughts with tiny crayons in my mind,
My words under pressure begin to bleed original sense.
Wouldn't she be proud.

It is likely to be night when
I find myself missing her and the shadows kick off their shoes and join me for a little tap dance, whispering "its only 3 months she'll be home soon"
It has not even been 3 minutes and I am quite losing it as it is.

I would like to think it is night when dawn turns into a feeling and the only challenge I face is not sleep paralysis but sleeping with thoughts, wishing my ideal body weight is hers on mine.
My thoughts under pressure begin to bleed less sense,
Without the sight of her who carries it,
They bleed less sense.

It is night isn't it, and
I would like to think there is nothing wrong with loving her
And logic be said, that the greatest drug that exists for a human is another human.
My human
Who seems to keep invading my thoughts, much more at night..