It was something about the way you held your coffee cup tightly. The way your knuckles turned white and your fingers with chapped nailpolish tapped the table. Your lips were cold and bleeding from the winter air, and the look in your eyes told me you've had a lot of sleepless nights lately. Crawling under the sheets and rolling over again and again and again without falling to sleep. Trying to shut your eyes, but that somehow just makes it worse. Constantly checking your phone for that one text message you want. Squinting your eyes at the brightness of the screen while looking through old conversations. Crying your eyes out and thinking of the past and all the memories. You get up and walk to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror reflection - mascara running down your cheeks and your red, swollen eyes staring back at you. Your lips are shaking and you just want to go back to the good days. You never thought it would end up like this.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry collection
PoetryWelcome to the collection of my poetry and other writings that stumbles across my mind at 3 am.
