what time is it?

I look at the clock. 11:52.
I think I’d rather be with you.
Weekends ago in your arms I slept,
Weekends ago a few tears I wept.
You stood there admiring the mental bond,
And never thought about the beyond.
You stood there thinking we aren’t one,
And never said a word. None.
You walked around and broke the ice,
You said I’m smart, you said I’m nice.
You talked and talked without a bluff.
Yet I knew, to you, I wasn’t enough.

I look at the clock. 11:56.
I wish I knew all about your tricks.
Weekends ago to your heartbeat I slept,
Weekends ago a few tears I wept.
I hid it all and I still do.
It wasn’t a walk in the park, it was just new.
I tried to make it easier for me then,
I tried to leave a distance again.
I came back to you every time,
With scribbles and writings that didn’t rhyme.

I look at the clock. Midnight it says.
Would this distance make you feel less?
Or is it just that I’m losing touch,
With my own feelings, and with yours, so much?
Weekends ago next to you I slept,
Weekends ago a few tears I wept.
Two weekends later I’m writing alone,
I lost the focus, I lost the tone.
I lost the memories of all that was said.
I wiped it clean, out of my head.
I’m ready now to start new.
I look at the clock. 12:02.

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