The Art of All Things UnNormal

I believe the title says it all...

when i watch the clock strike 12,
sat up in my bed,
pen in my hand;
i have to write reminders
to myself
on the pages of my journal,
on the frame of my bed,
on the surface of my skin,
not to call you.

because i know
if i am awake to watch the clock strike 12
i will stay awake
and watch 1, 2, and 3, come and go.
and right around 4 am i know
i will fall apart.
i will ruin the pages of my journal with tears,
i will have collapsed on my bedroom floor;
the same sad songs ringing through my head,
bouncing off the walls,
echoing off of my emptiness.

my head will hurt,
my hands will shake,
and i will write over and over
“i don’t want to be here”

at 4 am as i fall apart
i know i will want nothing
but to hear your voice.
i will want nothing but to feel your arms holding me.
because i know that you can make me feel,
as though nothing is wrong.
you can mend my soul,
even if only temporarily.
you make me feel whole.

so it is now
at 12 am
that i have to remind myself;
when 4 am comes around,
i can’t call you.
because i can’t fall in love with you

– hello, goodnight (via misplacedpens)