At night I see the stars shine and I imagine the way they might burn my fingertips if I could touch them, its a strange homesick feeling.
I sit alone on my bedroom floor, mostly unclothed, letting the darkness envelop me as the cold air sends shivers down my spine.
Moments come and go so quickly, you never know how much meaning one holds until its gone and its become a hazy memory that you try to cling onto.
These are the hours I drown in longing for something I've never had, but its also when I drown in longing for something I once had in the past.
These are the hours for aching lovesick poets that romanticize their pain, trying to turn it into something beautiful.
(because beautiful things won't tear us apart, right?)