it is 3 am. i am awake, overthinking.
it is 3 am. i've reminisced every memory, every event that has shaped me into who i am. except one. you.
it is 3 am. i am thinking of you. a contradiction that i was never given the chance to fully understand. you gave me air. you were the breath that filled my lungs. but you were poison. an addiction. a toxicity that i allowed to enter my body as if you weren't slowly killing me. you were a cigarette.
it is 3 am. i know what you did to me. i know the damage you caused me. but you imprinted a longing feeling that i don't understand. how could i miss the very thing that broke me?
it is 3 am. i miss you.
but you see,
it is 3 am. i am pondering what i did to lose you. but i know you are sound asleep.
YOU ARE READING
a racing mind
Poetrya collection of poetry, dedicated to the aching hearts who need help finding the words to describe their sorrow, but also words to help you see the best in things. - all poetry written by me unless stated otherwise -
