I wonder if you ever think about me? Do you stay up at night, tossing and turning, whispering secrets to only the angels, like I do? Do you replay what we had in your head over and over, until they bring you to tears like me? Do you ever find yourself looking at my pictures thinking She used to me mine like I do? Do you read the notes I wrote you -- or did you burn them? -- like I do? Do you smell my perfume randomly in the hallways like I smell your cologne? Do you miss the way we used to talk, hushed voices or crazy laughter like I do?
I can't escape you because you have something I need. A piece of me, no matter how small, still beats somewhere inside you, and I can't seems to stop until I get it back.
another insomniac poem that I will, no doubt, regret... but maybe it's the truth?