I listened intently to the clock ticking on the wall. My body wanted so bad to sleep but my mind wouldn't let me. My mind wouldn't let me because every time I closed my eyes, the images of that night were burned into my skull with a branding iron. His touch. His kiss. His voice. His breath mingling with mine.
This is my third night without sleep since him. He won't respond to my texts, and that's yet another reason I was awake right now. Not only did he love me for my first time, and whisper sweet nothings to the point that I was practically handing him my heart on a silver platter with a giant butchers knife and trusting him not to use it; but then he did use it. He continued the torture of just leaving me helpless and dangling in the fucking wind, like I was nothing, and he took the butchers knife and used it. But slowly. Using the tip to gently press and twist into my heart, agonizingly slow and painful. Painful enough that it was driving me crazy. Crazy enough that I just want to scream just kill me now...
But here I am. Almost 3 in the fucking morning, my eyelids aching to stay open and my skin burning trying desperately to remember what it felt like to have your fingers trace my body. And my heart crying out for your arms around me and your body pressed against mine. And my lungs screaming and begging to share the same air as you right now. But here I am.
They say the only ones awake at 3 AM are the lonely, the drunk, or the in love. I know one thing for sure, I'm a despicable example of all three.
YOU ARE READING
Broken
RandomThe only ones awake at three in the morning are the drunk, the lonely, and the in love. It's common that it's all three.
