There are too many hours dedicated to sleep- mostly because I toss and turn for most of them- churning you and I through my mind.

Some nights the hours melt into my drenched and puffy face- like the sky tinged red, my eyes- as the sun begins it’s ascension.

I find it so pathetic. So saddening. So repetitive. How I love you and hate myself then built myself up and break myself down- loving you

I stare at myself in the mirror as the tears silently stream down my face some day. Trying to find forgiveness for some crime.

Trying to explain to my jury- the particles within me- I AM NOT GUILTY! I want to scream and be heard but naught.

How unfair I am to myself. All because you’re stuck in my mind like a photograph left behind on a pinboard in an abandoned house.

A stain on a good shirt. A rip in favourite pair of jeans. Good wine spilt from it’s bottle. A scuff-mark on polished shoes. Good Lord.


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