Unfamiliar to the feeling
not entirely sure what's wrong,
but knowing that there's something missing
from my once wholesome life
and it's like i'm finally discovering myself
a period of rebirth
but now the clock has warned me that it is 12 in the morning
I am reminded of how you are out there
and how I don't know you
but how I desperately want to
and why I am a writer and all I do is constantly write or think about what I want to write about next but all of a sudden it's midnight and I can't find a way to string the extensive words of our English vocabulary together to somehow
SOMEHOW
expound upon why the simple touch of a stranger has left me feeling so empty, but how at the moment when I reached my fingertips just far enough that they could brush against your side,
I felt wholesome again
I don't know what makes humans yearn for another human to complete them and how we feel lonesome when in the company of the bitter silence that meets us at the end of a partnership
Or why I have a million and one things I could write about
instead of focusing again
on the loss of someone I never got the chance to know
and yet I choose to torture myself with seeing you in dreams
smiling at a girl
that is not me