moments between.

missing you
in the moments
between;
because for
every spare minute,
why wouldn’t i
spend it with you?

i wish i was yours.

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insomnia + depression.

hardly surprising;
the cliche couple
are such a complementary
match:
the weary inabilty
to sleep, and
the debilitating inability
to care.


manic incompetence.

i don’t remember
the last time.
my fresh energy
– pure and uninhibited –
i’ve forgotten what
it feels like.

instead, luke warm
at best
and otherwise
cold, dark and sticky.

my hands never dry
and yet my nail beds
are rough
and crumbling.

i am so tired
yet full of adrenalin
relentless trembling
plagues my knuckles
like an arthritic matriarch.

the mania comes
but in an anxious
and with reactionary
tention.

no patience,
no concentration,
all fear and no memories.

a quivering
ball of pathetic
incompetence.


[am].

i am alone,
i am apart,
i am numb
and cold
and bored.


it’s okay.

it’s okay,
(but kind of pathetic);
did you really think
i spent my days
pining and swooning?

you chased,
i sat pretty.
i asked,
and you lied.
i was fearless
and you ran.

it’s okay,
(but kind of pathetic);
did you really think
the pain you caused
meant more than a fading scar?

you chased,
i sat pretty.
i asked,
and you lied.
i was fearless
and you ran.


cut time.

time
relentlessly
cuts me:
stop.
back.
end.

play it
again
or make it
stop.

do it
over
or turn
it back.

keep me up;
up
or make it
end.

i want
for one thing
only:
stop time
for us,
take us back,
or make it
end.


reality.

but when
the one you miss
the most,
is the last
person
you should miss
at all;

it is difficult
not to believe,
that every moment
was intentional
deception;
and a humiliating
farce.

the reality is,
they stopped
needing you,
before you stopped
needing them.


often times.

often times,
he thinks,
she is the one
and only
thing,
that could make
it worthwhile.

other times,
he thinks,
she is a mess
and the only
thing,
that hurts
his chances.

the thing is,
she is getting used
to more days
of missing less,
and finding
she longs for comfort
somewhere else.

and even if
she doesn’t
deserve it,
it means more
to be alone
than in
that lonely cave.


bed.

kitten kisses
and fluffy
warmth.

each week
is a countdown:
one of seven
two of seven
three of seven
four of seven
five of seven
…weekend.

bed.
warmth.
silence
but for the
mewing
of my
cosy friend
who wants
for nothing
but kitten kisses
and fluffy warmth.


numb.

i do not
miss
the endless
panic and fear.

i do not
miss
the endless
dread and tremors.

i do not
miss
the endless
tears and adrenaline overdose.

alas, the
replacement
is a dull numbness
and endless insomnia.

i do not
sleep
on holidays;
i do not
sleep
at all.

i do not
miss
the endless
gasps for breath.

but i do
miss
sleep.