one brushstroke
after
another

there a little bit
of white
there a little bit
of blue

a song
fades
softly into
the background

and
my thoughts
once
don't revolve
around you

i don't meditate
but i paint

3am
is a weird
time

you may
get angry
at the world
for every
little
injustice

you may
feel lonely
even though
you talk
with friends

you may
get nostalgic
remembering
all the times
you were careless

you may
fall in love
over and
over again

3am
is a weird
time

and yet
it is mostly
the time
you're your
purest self

i always
miss
the right
moment
for
a split second

i heard
you asked
about me

you asked when
we will see
each other
again

and i said
'soon'
as if
it was
completely
normal

that you
asked
about me

the words
of honesty,
of truth

burned
like hell
on my tongue

but i've
always loved
the smell
of fire

so i
didn't care

i was
playing
with fire

i let
tiny flames
dance

and they grew
with time

burning me
just a little bit

but i
managed
to juggle
them

sometimes
my heart
wants to tell
my friends
about me

but my head
is still
stronger

and my anxiety
may be irrelevant
but
it's still there