Toss.
Turn.
Tears.
Torn.
All the words.
That make up me.
At three A.M.
Not wanting to over complicate,
but doing it so blissfully.
Over thinking,
Over wondering,
Thinking of you.
Wondering if you’re okay.
Knowing I have no place,
But wanting a place so desperately.
Toss.
Turn.
Tears.
Torn.
All the words.
That make up me.
At three A.M.
Without you.
Unable to sleep,
Unable to breathe,
Tears make pools on my bed.
Only function is to think.
Overthink,
Where you are,
Who you’re with,
If she’s with you.
Toss.
Turn.
Tears.
Torn.
All the words.
That make up me.
At three A.M.
About the Creator
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