it was 2am, and you were here

my phone was pressed on my ear

the presence of your voice 

kept me awake at night 

You know, I'm still trying to figure this shit out. How to accept, how to let go, how to move on. How to stop drowning in all those 'what if's'. I cannot say what sets you apart from the others I had before, why it is that hard. 

I should just think about how you go on with everything, meeting new people, make them fall for you but never fall for them. 

And it should make me angry. In a few months you won't even remember the colour of my eyes, will you? Or how my laugh sounded when you said something idiotic again. And for sure you're not wasting half as much thoughts on me as I still do on you. 

It really should make me angry. It really should make me hate you, how you chose to leave me here with all my unanswered questions and unsaid words. I really should hate you and I try, I try it every fucking day since then.

But all I can do is walk on the fine line between distraction and repression, pretending it would work out, just to let it devour me at night. I wish I could forget as fast as you can, saying I was just one of many. That it didn't mean anything at all. 

I wish I could do that when I have these moments and realize, we gave up on something we will never get back. Whatever it was.

it is 2am, and you're still here

my hands are pressed on my ears

the memory of your voice

keeps me awake at night