recycled poetry

midnight

11:47.
i'm playing one of the many playlists i've created for times like these.

11:48.
i'm lying on my bed, sniffling, an open book discarded beside me as the rest of the house is fast asleep.

11:49.
i close my eyes and breathe, having long since given up on dissecting this emptiness i'm feeling, accepting it as one of the merits of loneliness, summer time, and late nights.

11:50.
my fan blows in my room and i'm cold in my shorts but i don't have the willpower to get up and shut it off, instead stubbornly lying on top of my blankets and fighting off goosebumps.

11:51.
my eyes sting and i'm cold and i don't know why i'm always feeling this way: empty and helpless and hopeless, overwhelmed with the need to feel cool tears sliding down my cheeks.

11:52.
it's almost midnight, and a part of me should be nervous about that, even regretful, but i'm so used to my sorrows keeping me awake that i feel absolutely nothing at all as time ticks away.

11:53.
i don't know what to write.

11:54.
my mind is fogging up.

11:55.
i would cry again, but my eyes sting and i'm tired and maybe i do care a little bit after all - about myself, about the pain salty tears would bring my fragile skin.

11:56.
i want to be out on some rooftop, stargazing, crying tears of joy and awe instead.

11:57.
in another universe, i suppose, there is a version of me who is happy - truly, truly happy - and i wish her the best, as she dances in fields of flowers and travels the world and writes novels and stargazes and falls in love.

11:58.
this universe is one i will only reach when my eyes close.

11:59.
there's one minute until midnight and my tears are dry and i'm beginning to get used to the cold air and i wish things would change, but all i feel is empty.

12:00.
maybe today will be a new day - or maybe i'll find myself up at absurd times crying my eyes out over nothing and everything at the same time, dreaming of a simpler life. only time will tell.