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It Starts at Midnight
It starts at midnight, while I’m tossing and turning. Bundling them up into my fist, I intertwine with my sheets to create the allusion of your arms. All of my thoughts are given to you, and how it’d feel to be wrapped up with you. How it’d feel to lay my head on your chest and hear the beat of your heart. To listen closely, and see if it beats faster when I kiss you, like mine does when you kiss me. Then, at 2AM when I wake up from a nightmare. When I’m sweaty and can feel tears I subconsciously cried rolling down my face. It’s when I imagine you there with me, protecting me from myself and my thoughts. It’s at 7AM when I wake up, rolling over to nothing. Sighing instead of smiling because you’re not there, brushing my face with your finger, a beautiful and silent form of wishing me a good morning. It’s at 8AM while I’m making pancakes. You aren’t there, throwing the mix at me and starting a food fight that neither of us could win. It’s constant. It’s every second that my heart beats. It’s every moment my hand is without yours. It's when I realize, I am alone.
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