my breath reeks of coffee
you don't know when i started drinking it
and neither do i.
it's midnight again
and my computer screen glares brightly at me
at the pencil in my hand
and the sketchbook in my lap.
private drawings that only certain people have seen
drawings of my emotions, drawings of my thoughts.
scribbles and indistinct lines,
only making sense to me.
another cup of coffee,
and suddenly it's 1:00 AM.
my pencil and sketchbook have been put away
and a book now lay in my lap.
a story of death and birth,
war and love.
a story told in first person,
pain, yet happiness decorating every letter.
human and fae, different yet the same.
glory and sacrifice, a perfect love letter.
another cup, and it's 2:00 AM.
my book has been put away
and i lay on my side, wondering what happened.
tears made of acid slip from my eyes, betraying my train of thought,
derailing.
i think things i shouldn't
myself or them?
i shouldn't have had more than one cup.
i shouldn't've.
i shouldn't've.
yet again, another cup.
it's 5:00 am, and we're almost out of coffee.
my eyes are bloodshot
and yours are peacefully shut.
i climb in bed next to you,
and stare at your face,
marking every extraordinary detail.
your constellations of freckles in the gleam of the car driving by,
the scar near your lip from your father.
your dyed hair,
gleaming beautifully blue in the moonlight.
i did not get another cup,
and in this deafening silence, i can hear your heartbeat.
rhythmically, it has become my favorite song.
tragically, it has broken.
broken and healed,
loved and lost,
bruised and scarred.
but your wounds do not matter,
for you are here now,
and it does not make you any less valuable.
painfully, we are both shattered.
we are both a labyrinth,
an unsolvable puzzle.
yet our pieces fit perfectly together.
