Half-Past Midnight

One

It’s strange how my days end.

“Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago…” blares Taylor through the headphones, and I rush down memory lane, weighing down the veracity in her words.

It’s half past midnight. No, I’m not asleep yet. I think I might have trouble getting some sleep tonight. But all cares aside, for now, I’d rather contemplate.

Do you know the worst part of drawing parallels in silence? When you get down to the facts, there’s no one to remind you that there’s a difference between redemption and revenge. A vast one.

You know, he was like a language. A language you didn’t know and had to learn. Let’s say, Braille. To learn him, I sacrificed my sight. My reasoning, My calm. Just to get his spellings right. When I reached for his hand, I found only emptiness. I surely didn’t see him leave. How could I? Wasn’t I blind?

Blind, And in love. Or…blinded by love?

Two

It’s strange how my days end.

It’s pouring rather heavily tonight. So I arch myself on the windowsill at an angle that the raindrops barely touch my face. As I flick the lighter for once and the smoke surrounds me, I feel strangely at home. Nicotine, I’ve missed you in my veins. In my lungs, Out through my nose. In all the places he left empty, like my heart. Do you know the worst part about cigarettes? Even they don’t guarantee your death. No, let me rephrase that. They don’t set a countdown until your last breath. That is exactly how I’d want it to be.

You know, he was like a song. A song that you liked on the radio, but didn’t know the name of. A song that makes its way into every nook and crevice of your day.

Until one day, you don’t remember the first line anymore. You don’t remember the thrill the chorus brought you every time. Until one day, you lose the song.

So, did you lose the song, or did the music evade you?

 Three

The streetlights aren’t switched on tonight. The street is numb with darkness. As usual, I’m perched on the windowsill, with a thousand thoughts pacing in and about. Memories torpedo round my mind. It’s a slight pain, compared to the heavy one in my chest. My lips don’t move. My eyes don’t budge. I ease my arms onto my sides, my eyes close, and I lower my neck on my shoulder in comfort. Maybe, maybe I’d get some sleep tonight.

 A drop of blood snakes its way into the paper underneath. “I loved the girl you couldn’t. And this time, I didn’t leave her half-dead as you did.” It’s strange how my days' end, isn’t it?