it comes around midnight.
that feeling, you know.
the one you get when you realize
someone has stopped loving you.

it's something like that.

when poetry forgot how to help mend the past
and you forgot how to pick up a pen
it all falls into place, leaving the blanks
to stay blank. and you just blame it on apathy
because it's easier than staying awake
in a star.less bedroom.

right around when the liquor stops soothing
and you're left wide eyed in heartache
because the past never gets tired
of ripping.you.apart.
it falls together- around the same time that
your fingers start twitching from lack of sleep.
and it's then. just right.
then.

that you realize- for the first time in your life
you're utterly lost.


and when words become just words.
pen and paper mean nothing
anymore.

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