8 a.m
Light drips in lazily through
curtained windows,
Yet she doesn’t stir.
Eyes red and swollen
from midnight’s fallen tears
I guess crying yourself to sleep doesn’t always work.

Lights flicked by,
as she looked faithfully out the window
headlights, streetlights, turn signals
all a blur
when driving 120
down a highway to get away.

Reece’s cups and Dr Pepper
from that random gas station,
A must for when grocery store visits
Turn into long needed road trips.

Truly talking to you,
for the first time in a while
Memories slip in from days long past,
But soon fade with the news
You kissed her…


it’s 8 a.m
and I guess,
crying yourself to sleep doesn’t always work.

(Source: thekillerclimax)