I miss you the most at midnight. It’s too dark and not dark enough and I’m just not myself crying over you for the third time tonight. I think of the way you always laugh at my jokes and how it feels like sometimes you understand why I’m not laughing. My bed feels like a prison at 1am when I just want to hear you say my name and you’re somewhere else with someone else. I can’t think about your hands and how I know they feel on me except you’re no longer on me but someone else much better. And it’s close to 2am only now I don’t miss you but the girl I used to be before you let me believe I could be someone different. She’s somewhere inside, rotting like a corpse because you’ve made my room feel like a graveyard. Now it’s 3am and I’m just wishing for this to stop so I don’t have to feel so alone anymore.