I regret every second I am asleep because nothing hurts more then waking up to find out it was all a lie.
You are not mine.
You don't love me.
It's not three in the morning, you're not asleep beside me with one hand on my chest sending chills of fire straight through every bone, every vein, every single cell of this wretched body.
I am not sober, hearing your voice tell me that you could gaze into my eyes forever, thinking about how badly I want your soal to coexist with mine for the rest of time.
Your breath may not be mine but my thoughts are all yours.
Your touch may not be mine but my memories are all yours.
My infatuation is all yours.
My love is all yours.
My insomnia is all yours.