You were the five pm.
The good morning message
The ******* butterflies.
You were the Sunday mornings, the Tuesday afternoons.

But you couldn't be my two am.
My raking fingers
My shaking breath.
Because,
I was too afraid of what happened in the dark to turn out the lights.
Because,
your words only made me feel when they were filled with venom.
Because, when you said you loved me,
I couldn't breathe until I told you I didn't feel the same.