hungry
Nights like these... I never know what to make of them. Somewhere between my third mug of coffee and a brief phone call, I am brutally reminded of everything about you that impairs me. I always end up, at two in morning, in a pool of unrequited hunger. My mind collapses on the notion that I'll probably never see us through, never wake up to find you next to me. Warm and enfolded. Shoulder to cheek. The harsh light of day illuminating everything I can't have.
When all I need to do is ask.
When all I need to do is ask.