2:00 a.m Playlists,
Have always hit different.
Moon glistening.
Crickets chirping.
Cars passing.
House quiet.
Phone screen shining,
Music low enough,
To not wake the silence.
Songs I forgot existed,
Until they\'re familiar again.
Everything always feels louder,
At 2:00 a.m.
Not just the cars outside,
Or the music,
Just the way music remembers.
It remembers every night,
I let the darkness of a room,
Carry me someplace else.
It remembers versions of people,
That they don\'t even remember.
And it remembers versions of me,
I long for or wish to forget.
Some songs,
Will stay untouched,
Until nights like this.
On nights like this,
They suddenly know too much,
And hit too hard.
One lyric,
And I\'m somewhere else.
I\'m in beds I no longer sleep in,
Rooms, I no longer laugh in.
Back in conversations,
People don\'t remember.
Songs remember things.
Turning memories,
Into something permanent.
Three minutes of a song,
Carrying years of life.
Some songs carry more weight.
They feel colder now.
Not because the music changed,
But because people did,
And so did I.
It carries voices
I used to memorise,
Now distant whispers.
Whispers blocked by walls
Of a house
I no longer recognise.
Somehow songs still
Know every version of me.
The one who stayed awake too long.
The one who thought people
Would stay forever.
The one who thought
That replaying a song
Over and over
Would eventually make feelings dull.
But no matter how loud,
Music never really dulls things.
It immortalises them.
Keeping distant nights alive.
Keeping moments present,
Even though the people inside them
Have long since left.
Maybe that\'s why
2:00 a.m playlists
Always hit different.
During the day,
Life is loud enough
To outrun memory.
But at 2:00 a.m,
With the house quiet
And moonlight spilling across the floor,
There is nothing left
But the music
And the memories
It refuses to forget.