I miss you
the most
at midnight.
It’s too dark
and not dark enough
and I’m just not myself
crying over you
for the third time tonight.
I think of the way
you always laugh at my jokes
and how it feels
like sometimes
you understand why I’m not laughing.
My bed feels like
a prison at 1am
when I just want
to hear you say my name
and you’re somewhere else
with someone else.
I can’t think about
your hands
and how I know they feel
on me
except you’re no longer
on me
but someone else
much better.
And it’s close to 2am
only now I don’t miss you
but the girl
I used to be
before you let me believe
I could be someone different.
She’s somewhere inside,
rotting like a corpse
because you’ve made
my room feel like
a graveyard.
Now it’s 3am
and I’m just wishing
for this to stop
so I don’t have to feel
so alone
anymore.