2 a.m. poison

But even at 3 a.m. when my bed is cold and lonely, I won’t let your name touch my lips.

And at 4 a.m. after I’ve stared at my ceiling for 60 tortuous minutes, when my demons come out to play, I know now, that you can’t save me.

Because deep down I know that when 8 a.m. rolls around with the obnoxious wake up call of my alarm, that my cheeks will be dry.

And when I crawl to the shower with exhaustion hugging my body, I know that the water will wash away any doubts and insecurities.

I know with certainty that you are no match for the powerful morning sun.

And as I lay here, counting my failures in my head, with my entire body trembling with your absence, I know that this darkness will pass too.

That’s the funny thing about night.

After 2 a.m. your presence becomes so fucking real and I am left running from your poison.

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