It hurts so fucking bad
Hearing you breathe through the headphones in my ears as you sleep soundly while I sit on my mattress awake,
Sobbing.
It's not fair. It's not fair that I sit here and I write these love poems and odes to you. It's not fair that you tell me to reach out any time yet you fall asleep as my sniffles get louder.
How many times do I have to catch my breath until you notice I'm still awake?
I'm clutching your long sleeve shirts hoping to get the last whiff of your scent, because sometimes I know it still lingers.
You're waking up now. I better go.
YOU ARE READING
•Mind on Paper•
PoetryThis is going to be a collection of late night thoughts and spurs of inspiration for your viewing pleasure. Some of these could be happy, sad, melancholic, and much more. My brain is the brush, the paper, or in this case the screen is my canvas. I...
