7 hours
curling into cotton
drawing swirls into fabric
6 clock ticks
swan lake hues
run to storm cloud blues
5 am tamping down screams
a tear trail carves a glistening creek
from naked eye lines to half moon dimples
4 seconds
take a beat
hold a breath
3 bright messages
neon on greyscale
empty fingers tap tap tapping
2 thumbs on a pocket size screen
frantic horrid manic
almost borderline panic
1 plane takes off from an airfield
1 plane lands safely half a continent away
you and me have history
muddy like the creek bed
romance on its death bed
screaming-fights-at-midnight kinda fucked up story
fingers skimming canvas shoulders
cherry lips leaving carmine drops
on your favorite painting
ð“„¼
3AM is when my mother is right, when problem sets are finished, and when my tears crystallize. Buses stop running as beads of water run rivulets down my shoulders into my towel. You were right that day you told me we would suffocate each other. The wall clock ticks in tune to my racing heart. Across the continent a city is waking. I wonder if you've thrown my toothbrush away.
~
