All Nighter

That first touch lit a spark
Which fuelled the all-nighter,
Opening up a seemingly endless stretch of hours
In which we became what we wanted
And learnt what we could.
Sleep would be for the dispassionate
At the cost of crashing and burning by midday
If only we could own the night
As close to each other as we would like;
One touch of the lips
Revealed our tired hallucinations
To be the sweetest sort of reality.