2-25-16
Nothing feels real.

Reality mixes with dream
and it's all blurry and fogged over.

Last night feels so dreamy.
From you,
(you're real, I didn't just dream you up. You're human, you're not a dream that lasted way too long)
to a 3am suicide call.

I kept thinking of you,
trying not to worry,
because you put my mind at ease.
But when somebody tells me they've been drinking and downing pills like candy,
I forget the missed calls and unanswered texts and distance between our souls,
I'm going to fucking worry.
I couldn't sleep,
I was afraid I'd forget their voice crying on the other end,
and I had to remember how desperate that was,
I wasn't willing to let that slip my memory by morning.
And oh god, it didn't.

That's the thing about 3am-
you start to wonder if you're dreaming or experiencing.

I realize that if they were dead right now,
nobody would think to call me.
We've been so distant,
we hardly talk,
and I've been miles away for far too long.

You're still on the other side of these thoughts,
and you make me smile like an idiot,
even through this shit.

The stars can put on their most dazzling display,
but my eyes will repeatedly need to find you.
I'm so in love with you,
and I can't even say I've been here before,
because I've said these words,
but they mean an entirely different thing when I talk about you.
You're my 3am-
because I want to be experiencing this
but it's hard to believe you're real.
- (m.m)

These destructive hands could burn holes through the atmosphere,
and we can finally breathe again,
inhaling stardust blissfully.
- (m.m)

You look like my idea of forever.
I want to wake up to you,
and fall asleep right next to you.
I want to spend every second with you.
I love you.
- (m.m)

I'd do better but I'm tired and hazy and idk too much inspiration but I can't process it efficiently enough to make it into better words.

P.s. I can't stop writing about you, babe, there just aren't enough words for you in the dictionary.