It is during nights like these, when the only thing I hear is the ticking of the clock hanging above my head, and when the only things I see are my empty cup and dark window, that I miss you the most. Nights like these make me wish we could disappear to an empty place, with nothing that can hold us back; nothing but each other. Nights like these make me stare at the phone, begging it to ring. Sometimes I plead out loud, “Please, call me, Love,” but no reply.
I wish that you’ll just call me one of these nights; surely I’ll not be sleeping—I can not sleep with thoughts of you ever waltzing around my head. I wish we can spend one night away on the phone, like we used to.
Did we use to talk on the phone? It all seems so distant now, I have forgotten. And our romance, our comedy, our passions, I have forgotten their flavor. Remember when I told you:
Kiss me now or never…
…I might soon forget the flavor,
So my Love, do me a favor…
…Before we part kiss me goodnight.
Remember? I wrote that long ago, jokingly, when I was inspired by your stubbornness. You didn’t want to kiss me, for some reason or another, you teaser. I remember.
But not only do nights like these torment me with thoughts of you, but they also make me realize how lonely life is now, without you. “Is it natural,” I ask myself, “for a human to contain so much love without bursting?” I wonder, “How could someone love this much, and get nothing in return?”
I hate nights like these; I miss you to death, I question my love for you, I look outside to see the darkness that’s inside, deep inside. It’s pure solemnity, breeding with loneliness, and its only offspring is tearful disaster. I sob and whisper, sob and whisper, sob and whisper.
{kwoo§hie}* said...
insanity- I LOVE IT.
talk to me.b