On empty nights, I watch the flickering lights of the empty streets
At 2 in the morning, A time made for a selected few. The time where either minds or bodies wander into strange places or strangers or both.
Like a reoccuring dream, only one scene plays despite the endless succession of "ifs" and "buts" laying across my tongue like crippling bodies finding its way out, but acquiring Stockholm syndrome before it does.
How can something end 7 times over?
How can you not see the end coming?
One after the other, the questions barrage in and I can make up all the reasons and excuses, but never really answering the question in the process.
They say that perfect love casts out all fears,
But did I love you too much that I lost the fear to lose the inner parts of me, or at the very least, my intuition to know when it's not gonna get any better?
That we're not gonna get any better than this?
That we've ran out of fuel to go around in circles?
And by the 6th time we tried to jumpstart the engines, have my hands calloused thick enough to not feel the cuts from broken down wires and shattered glass sprinkled around everything you hand to me,
like how you sugar coat the way you tell me you don't love me the same anymore?
And when does the pain end?
Or does it really ever end?
Or do you just get used to it that it becomes a part of you?
According to medicine, feeling pain is a way for your body to tell you that something's not right.
The last time i saw you walking out on me, i felt a slight, gnawing pain in between my chest.
When you closed the door, the pain disappeared.
So i guess what i wanted to ask you was,
Am I still your 2am thoughts,
Or have you learned to sleep by 1?