1:49 a.m.
a thought : only you.
i think love needs to redefine itself in my head, now that it has met you. a.m.'s are not times of daydreams and unintended smiles, at least not to me. a.m.'s are more of emotional breakdowns and trying to cool myself the **** down. sometimes a.m.'s are transient thoughts and other times just deep sleep. but all a.m.'s have been about lately are you. an unsteady heart beat, a churning stomach, and a nervous laugh. surprisingly, i don't hate it all that much.
9:45 p.m.
i slept while thinking of you yesterday, i think that's the best sleep i've had in a while. anyway, you know how they say you're ****** when the thoughts that only hit you at night, start taking over 24/7? well, i don't agree. my nights have always been about you, and now my days are too and i cannot think of anyone other than you who's worth thinking about, dreaming about, talking to, laughing with.
9:52 p.m.
i forgot that i'm supposed to write these hours apart from each other. i guess i can't wait a whole lot to start talking about you again. i don't think i've ever craved someone's presence so much. i don't think i detested anyone's absence before i met you either. they say time is not to go to waste, but even if i spend an eternity trying to figure you out, i'd still have managed my time well. nothing ever goes to waste when you're involved.
10:56 p.m.
my mind has been wandering off for the past hour. i think i'll create a new language to describe you with, i might've run out of adjectives that exist. i'm not one to ever get speechless, i think you know this by now, i talk more than i breathe, but my emotions for you sometimes render me speechless and i don't want to spend a second not telling you how beautiful you are.
11:11 p.m.
a time in which people wish upon. now, i don't believe in this crap at all but i still wish for your well being every 11:11 just in case it's not as unrealistic as it sounds. i may not pray much, but when i do i always ask for you to be okay and i may not always appreciate good when good comes but once i had you back, i swear i've never been more thankful.
11:28 p.m.
i keep saying you're beautiful but that's not even the point i want to get across. beauty envies you, beauty tries to be you, because beauty will always only be appearance and you'll always be more than only that.
you can never be only one thing, you're not that limited. i know i talk about you like you're holy but that's only because you are and you always will be.
12:00 a.m.
i just realised that maybe i love you too much. you deserve all the love in the world though, all of it.

The air is brittle this ominous, wintry night.

The slivers of a life you used to know still haunt you, as surely as you have permitted them to be a haunt to others.

Without question, it is those memories that spur your ruminations; that cause your copious circumlocutions; which compell you to stand on this somber boulevard in front of this crumbling, but once stately manor that now is a languid presence with the solitary purpose of looming over the vast grounds.

It is obligatory that you proceed along the avenue that used to split the yards that are now overgrown and chocoblock with twisted vines, and thistles.

You pause, to gather your strength.
One deep inhailation and then you hold your breath as you grip the tarnished handle and lock leaver.

With a perfect degree of strength your thumb recalls, the mechanism is undone.

Your arm pushes forward.

The silence is disturbed by a warbling creak as the heavy door is slowly opened.

You exhale, then before you lose your nerve you quickly pass through the ingress and enter into the foyer,
which is instantly familiar in the dim, flickering light and the long, slender adumbrations effected by the gossamer encaked voltives jutting from the dusty walls.

Though it has remaned unchanged  
throughout all the time that has passed, standing in the ornate room affirms that the warmth with which you used to be recieved here has been abandoned to a frigidity.

You feel as if this room remembers you.

This is as far as I dare go with you, my friend, though I know you must continue.

I have listened to your stories, so
I know you have many rooms to search.

The closier that you seek is in a matter that is not my own.

I will depart upon rendering these words of warning:

When visiting the past,

As you daringly explore these often haralded halways,
Be careful what you leave behind.
Take caution not to lose yourself,
For a shadow lingers in the Suite Sublime.

I am sat here alone now
on Table 36. Still ****** in the afternoon
and maliciously lacking function.
Now eyes stray to the barmaids
without a grain of guilt;
indeed, with thirst and *******.
These words come fast and easy
in the humdrum silence
that followed from your chaos.

I have given up on hope,
sat at Table 36. Only placed in the future
and in the absence of action,
for the years I lost myself to you
I combed the mirror of life
in the hope to clean up my act.
Now words come easy
in this newborn retreat,
free from your pain,
free from your deceit.