This poem isn’t much
But still I clutch it with my might
For It’s the only thing I’ve touched
That won’t leave me tonight
So I’ll write and I’ll write
Until my time does expire
That I might leave here as a poet
And an even better liar

Awake in the night
Tossing towards three am
Again, the loneliest hour begs my company

And you’re with me
In my absence

In my belly like lead
Heavy, hot, and hurting

Resurrecting the dead in these stolen slumbers
With waves of regret
Guilt

If I were a decent human
I might wake tomorrow with love to give

But pride is a shallow grave
That waits to be unearthed

I could easily climb out
But then what’s the point of digging in the first place, if not to be noticed

And so I’ll rot here waiting for you to make the first move

Hating every minute of it
Hoping you hate it too

Manipulative ****** that I am