The only time I fall asleep in your arms are the nights we sit by our empty glasses. The bottles lay askew on the floor, they are cold and dripping with the last drop of our day. They were filled with the fruits of our labor and the sour bubbling laughs. We filled each other in as we filled each other's glasses. The comfortableness, the ease that we feel are not because we are comfortable with each other. It is because our drinks push us out. You might as well say that we are introverts by day and extroverts by night. One bottle is empty and one hour of our day is complete. We move on continuing to fill the silence that we both cannot bear to see. To us being in the clear is seeing our glasses empty. It does not provide us with any relief, just anxiety to why our glass is still empty. I fill up the glasses as we fill up the room with our conversation. Two bottles down, then three, then four, and now we are on the floor. Laying there finger to finger, head to head, leg to leg we discuss our future plans and our dirty secrets because we know by morning we will forget we ever spoke. As sad as it may be, when we wake up in the morning feeling the pain of last night. We will just sit and stare. Not say a word. Our glasses that lay beside us this morning are as empty as our conversations. I just want to be able sleep with you after a night of not drinking. Because maybe I can actually speak.