I am tired; sleep comes not easy
to the weary ones.
I wish for simplistic things,
sweetness dripping off lips like honey,
and maybe a numbing agent for my
over active senses.

Yet I am senseless
tripping back and forth between
composed and extreme.
Brainwaves falter when trying
to wrap themselves around your
beautiful mediocrity.
I wish for a way to explain how much
I love you still. Even though
I never should have in the first place.