it's 3 am,
and i still miss you,
it's 3 am,
and i still want you,
it's 3 am,
and my tears still fall,
it's 3 am,
and my cuts are still here,
it's 3 am,
and i'm still not over you,
it's 3 am,
and i still want to be with you,
it's 3 am,
and i'm scared,
it's 3 am,
and i still love you.
-k.d.
YOU ARE READING
life as we know it
PoetryBeing a poet is like being really sick. But instead of vomit, words come out. This is my word vomit.