I can't sleep tonight because I feel somewhat buoyant.
I watched white aprons with tiny smatterings of red being flung around and amidst the comedic humour and titillating spreads all I could think about was you. I feel like I'm hovering in a state, just out of your reach, balls of my feet barely scraping the floor.
Unsettled.
I've learnt from the past. I know how conversations past the stroke of midnight only pave way for issues your daylight mind could never think of. And then there's me; impulsive, emotional, boasting expertise in verbal hemorrhage. I think I am one step ahead, taking the initiative, doing us both a favour.
I leave, but all I want to do is run into your arms and hopefully the impact will be enough to rattle some sense into our skulls. Perhaps even mar them enough for pain receptors to hardwire in them the hurt associated with such arguments, and never repeat.
I talk to you here because I can't talk to you. Fate likes to kick back and have a good laugh some nights too. So for now I just wish my mind would blank out long enough for sleep to take over so in seconds my conscious state would be wedded again to yours.
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