Twenty Past One

It’s twenty past one.
I’m sitting on my bed. Munching
On chocolate chip cookies, crunching
Thinking
You were in front of me, all I was doing is punching
Your face,
Instead of speaking (I hate you so)
Something
Which I know now I shouldn’t have said. (I love you so)
Now launching,
Into bouts of moody, selfish imagination
Of my version.
I’m staring,
Into oblivion
As you’re shrinking
Into the distant past
I’m blinking
I was a fool, convinced this would last
Oh, but you go,
I’m so over you.
Maybe not.

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