Acetone*

It wouldn't take
a simple overnight
to have enough of him, now;
You miss him,
isn't that right,
as you tie your shoe laces
and clench your jaw tight.
How long is soon?
The waiting party's over,
your resistance, a deflated balloon.
You're running out of air, silly girl,
too attached with your care.
You're a switch and he flips you
from nothing to everything,
and you're weaponless.
So, do yourself a favour,
and stop counting all the seconds
you've waited for him,
stop wasting your 11:11,
or else when the clock
finally breaks down,
the time might just **** you.