It's 12:20.
It's 12:20, middle of the night, I'm awake,
Thinking and thinking, despite the headache,
Thinking and waiting for the time to fly,
Thinking and wondering why sleep is shy,
It's 12:45, missing my love, I'm still awake,
Trying and failing to give my mind a break,
Thinking and planning what I'll do when my love is close,
Then getting up to take a painkiller dose,
It's 12:55, missing my love, I'm still awake,
Wondering if I'll be able to catch some sleep before daybreak,
Another six nights to go before my love is back,
And another six hours to go before the Sun erases the black,
It's 1:10, missing my love, I'm still awake,
Feeling the dose kick in, lessening the headache,
I want to sleep, about my love I want to dream,
But there's still time to kill, it would seem,
It's 1:20, missing my love, I'm still awake,
My head feels light, gone is the ache,
The day we said goodbye seems to be so old,
"I'll come back to you soon.", I was told,
It's 1:40, missing my love, I'm still awake,
Just come back to me, darling, for my sanity's sake,
For now, I'm closing my eyes to the moon,
And I know, my love will come back to me soon.
********
I just checked, my oldest poem is written exactly 2 years ago.
So I guess happy 2 year anniversary to me :) 💐🎉😊❤️
YOU ARE READING
Selcouth
PoetryHi. I'm a feminist who writes poetry because I'm in love with English literature. I've also had a romantic history which is confusing, (and almost funny) yet emotionally turbulent. And so this fact makes for a bunch of good things to write on.
