I wake up alone.
Conversation over air, breaching two thousand and some miles—
so much of the time, it is too much to bear.
I miss you. I am afraid that words have become tiresome.
And I live for midnight.
Love is never wrong, even if one starves for the sake of it—
even if I am waking alone.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
I wake up alone.
Conversation over air, breaching two thousand and some miles—
so much of the time, it is too much to bear.
I miss you. I am afraid that words have become tiresome.
And I live for midnight.
Love is never wrong, even if one starves for the sake of it—
even if I am waking alone.
