i'm hitting the 3am mark again
on the good high,
the middle ground between tipsy and drunk
but alcohol is a danger to my perception
i mistake your lust for love,
your touch for care
when the light resurfaces,
so do my flaws;
new bruises on my legs
fading marks on my neck
but when the light resurfaces,
so does my rationality
i become a bundle of nerves again
regrets choke my throat and blur my vision
words can barely form in my mind now,
let alone the feelings in my heart
wasn't i merely another piece of plastic to you?
i cry for the trust i placed in you but it's no use,
all i know is i'm left wondering
when will my life begin?
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 2:18 PM UTC
remind me again where to draw the line
between affection and attention
when all i am thinking of is your warmth against my very own,
yet without any strings nor emotions attached
because let's put it simply and very bluntly - we're not in love,
we're two people obsessed with the idea of being in love
you lull me with preconceived notions (of love);
of how i should feel when i'm with you
it has become a steady, easy comfort to deny it
and we always stray from the truth
the truth is we are merely two people living out your ephemeral fantasy
and perhaps mine
after all, i was never able to distinguish affection from attention
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
today i learnt that 3am is witching hour
i think back to the 3ams we spent together
our thoughts growing louder
as the world grew silent
witches would have had nothing on me
with you, my fears remained shrunken
a rock, a stone, a gem
my rock, my stone, my gem
remember how i picked at your mind
remember how you learnt my idiosyncrasies
remembering intimacies and depth
remembering limits and being apart
‘patience is a virtue’
i never understood that till i saw it reflected in you
but then again, patience. . .
the very thing that made me tear us apart
we used to fit ourselves into each other’s schedules, like puzzle pieces
now remote acquaintances at the very least
strangers and driftwood
torn apart, all on my part
consider this a shout to an endless void
a scream into an abyss
a plea to your heart
all that you will never witness
but if i ever cross your mind even for a millisecond
do accept my last selfish request
promise they’ll be good thoughts
or maybe, at the very most, promise you’ll call
after all 3am was always ours
two of us fending against the dark
an incessant, hopeful memory (yet one of my favourites)
3am will always be ours
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 8:53 AM UTC