it’s 5:52 and my first thought is obviously of you
my eyes are wide and i go online to see if there’s any possibility of conversing
the first thing my eyes see are two sentences that my heart cannot withstand
the realisation that you’re moving on and i’m still stuck in heartbreak land
why is it that the good ones always hurt you the most but move on the quickest?
it’s 5:55 and at this point my mind is racing
flashbacks to a time that seemed to be golden
the first instinct to draw a crimson red because you still provoke a sickening anxiety oh how my head is in agony
but i suppress, knowing that i shouldn’t have to ask myself if that’s my blood.
and you answer, and somehow i forget what i 5:52 brought me