Split second friendly fire,
Shield yourself from false desire.
You wake up with eyes bruised from a sleepless night.
You think of him and your last fight.
The empty spaces in your bed dances to his shape,
close your eyes, cover your ears,
attempt a futile escape.

--------------------------------------------------------­-------------


You wake up to a text message. You don't have to guess who it's from, the moment you read it is when positivity caves in. Suddenly it's as if the tornado from the night before was nothing but a mere gush of wind.

"Good morning I'm so sorry baby."

You expected him to say that. He always says that. An all too familiar cycle. You smile a bit and delay your reply, as if to make him think you don't care.

"I'm sorry too."