Waking Up

A Poem

Photo by Ron Lach via Pexels

it’s 3 AM,
and i woke up from the aftermath
as if i were on a predestined path
that began and ended with you

and your words,
your carefree quips,
your unrelenting kindness —
none of it was for me after all

so many restless nights,
so many hours staring at a ceiling,
so many glimpses of a fleeting vision —
all of it was just the longing of a lonely heart

and i’m sorry, i’m sorry,
if you think i’m being harsh

and i’m sorry, i’m sorry,
if you had to humor me a bit

it’s 3 AM,
and i have to face the monster
staring from out of the mirror,
the problem behind all of it

and her mind,
her listless thoughts,
all her musings run amok —
those fickle fancies die hard

so many hopeless dreams,
so many faceless mirages out there,
so many glances at what could have been —
all of it became the poison to my fleeing senses