3:12 am. I’ve been randomly waking up at these hours of the night lately. If it’s not from the bad cough I’ve been suffering from these past weeks, it’s from the sea of thoughts I always feel myself about to drown in. How I wish I could just flip a switch and turn everything off. Though I love these hours of the night, everything is just so quiet… and still…
I remember a time when I loved writing. Not the things I write for Mimified but my goals and aspirations, mostly poetry. I found it easier and therapeutic writing at these hours, 3am knew all my secrets. Give me my pen & notebook; you’d see my thoughts splatter through black ink in the form of written words. Though somewhere along the way I stopped! I couldn’t write anymore. Nothing I wrote felt good enough. I actually have a couple of unfinished poetry waiting to be completed.
Though a couple of days ago I wrote something and actually completed it. It wasn’t any good but I completed it! Yesterday i I wrote a couple more, also completed. They were all inspired by a boy. They’re not necessarily about him but he gives me something to write about. Thinking about it now, I realise maybe I needed a muse. Maybe I needed HIM.
I thought i had no space for love
till you came, made everything easy
and I broke all rules for you.
You weren’t perfect,
neither was our story
but If i could i’d turn back chapters
just so I could relive it with you.
Where did we go wrong?
Don’t tell me about being ready,
I knew we were ad hoc
Don’t lie, you did too
but you gave up way too easily.
I now relate to Jhene
that part about spilt milk in Trip.
She never planned on drinking
but what if I did?
No not that…
I’m talking about US