it’s midnight and i’m
overthinking, of course
because what else would i be doing?
it’s my favorite nighttime activity,
you know
letting my brain pick apart
every conversation we’ve ever had,
letting it bully my heart into believing
i made it all up in my head;
he could never love me anyways.
the tears are streaming freely now,
and i’m not exactly sure why,
all i know is i’m tired
and it’s not because it’s midnight.
-a.c.b