Now at 3:25 a.m.
All that matters to me
Is how your lips would feel
If they were slowly dancing with mine
How your skin would feel
If it were underneath my fingertips
And imagining the way your hands
Would curl around mine in the dark.
At 3:25 a.m. my mornings
Used to be dark and lonely
Cold and empty.
But this is what happens
When you fall in love
You trade in that loneliness
For a garden of daisies
Because if they like daisies, you like daisies.
And suddenly all that matters
Is watering that garden
And watching it grow
And praying a drought won't appear
Because at 3:25 a.m.
You're the entire world to me
And I don't want it any other way

t.n.

I write poetry to forget you. Hoping with every clever word phrase, you'll find your way out of my memory.
I just want you to know, betwixt all these fancy words and captivating images there's a broken girl who sits dangerously at the end of a piece of drift wood as a tornado approaches the shores of a distance beach.
There's a crooked smile singing the praises of some self found confidence that could be bottled and sold in the nearest gag shop.
There's a record player in my chest rotating the same three songs all with the same sad tune of "maybe this time". There's an empty casket going into an unmarked grave for feelings I thought we could share but never quite died.
There's a timid hand shake wrapped in insecurities doused in ambition and remorse for the words and actions that lacked excitement when I took the hand of some fragment that should have replaced you.