Sunday Morning

A Poem by Alexandra

Nothing is the same
I’m sure you feel that way too
You talk to people and there’s a void in your right ear telling you to not listen, but pretend you care.
There’s a mood at night when you’re alone and the lights are dim
And the smoke puffing out of your mouth is all just about playing the part
We’re both playing our part
You’ll smoke weed, play music, do shows and occasionally hang out with girls.
But, that’s just to keep your mind off of things so when you taste their lips, you’ll forget about Sunday morning in my room.
I’ll keep writing every night, looking out my window, dropping acid on lonesome afternoons and hang out with my ex when he’s done hanging with girlfriend named Alexis.

At the end of the night, when all is silent and the void fills.
Will hear our conversations in small whispers.
Faint touches that remind you were still here.
You fall asleep.
And will resume our spots in my room.
Waking up to love on Sunday morning.

Did you miss me yet?