I know you write at night, say you'll have time to wither in the morning. funny how you fight yourself when all your body wants is rest and surrender.
Is it really a battle when both sides come from the same?

How crazy that your body just wants you to be okay and you can’t even bring yourself to listen. How crazy that I tried so hard to be your pillow and you wouldn’t lay down next to me.

and how many mornings did I watch you sleep through?

how many nights did you spend in the dark cracking knuckles and biting the wood off pencils?

how many times do i have to give in to you before you let me in?
how many times do i write about you only to write about him?

how many times does the subject change from one to the other and i’ll argue with you about him when we’re looking at one another?

how many times will it hurt before it all feels the same? how many times will this stop feeling like new burn and pain?