11:11 comes twice a day too
it gives us a second chance to hope
but I could never have you, nope
I'm done wasting my wishes on you

a.v.

It never left my mind, how I have always wanted to write a poem about the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the day.

I seem to have always waited. For the right moment. For the feeling. For the very thing that would hold my heart captive. And that, I told myself, I will forever wish.

Quarter past twleve one rainy midnight, I smiled to myself. I have always wanted the poem to be wordy. But I have never thought brevity could be this lovely:

     *You.
     It has always been you.
     And it will always be.

11:11, a time on a clock
Some hope for luck, others for sleep
You hoped for love, which you found in me
Time passed on, many times over
We drew apart, as did the minutes between
Until tonight's 11:11, when I wished for you

11:11
He wished for her to be okay,
Her head buried in his shoulder,
Shaking them both with sobs that
Bounced off the walls and screamed
That he was doing it all wrong.

11:11
He wished for everyone to be okay,
His inbox filled with letters that
Formed words that told the stories
Of how no one was really ever okay, and
How he was doing it all wrong.

11:11
He wished for her to come back,
His eyes burning with the regret of
Not telling her how much he'd miss her, the sharp
Wind on this cheek as he stared at her grave
Reminded him on how he had done it all wrong.

11:11
He wished that he'd be okay,
Sudden realization that wishes are
Only that, the hollow hope like
The gorges in his skin to remind him
How he did everything wrong.

11:11
He hoped there wasn't nothing
After leaving this world of fake
Wishes, and lay his head in his pool of blood
On the bathroom floor, one last slit across his throat,
And he wished he didn't get this wrong.