4 A.M Musae

3:58 A.M : “You just forgot about me”
3:59 A.M : “Which sucks”
4:00 A.M : “But I’ve gotten used to it.”

That night comes back. The time he said he loved you, drunk and wasted. You cried and left. What was meant to be an attempt to make him realise the feeling when love eats a soul alive, backfired. You were the one that was left alone. And now you want to rip your skin off just because he touched it there. Rip your ears out because his is the only voice you hear. Desperately hope that his lips burn, each time he kisses someone who isn’t you.

4:02 A.M : “You failed this test too?!”
4:03 A.M : “You are going nowhere in your life.”

You want to crash down on the floor, pulling your hair out. You want to give up; scream. SCREAM. And yet, on the outside, you’re silent, staring at those certificates, framed and hanging on the wall with pride. But they don’t belong to you. They belong to your brother, a successful surgeon now. But a doctor will not understand the Chemistry that love is. He will not understand that equal moles of affection from each participating species does not guarantee a successful reaction.

End point : The sun rises. Engulfing all specks of doubt in its crimson flames. You squint your eyes, staring at the morning sun, almost beckoning you to get up and face the day that lies ahead. And you do just that, hoping that today will be better than yesterday.

Yet at night, they resurface, almost conducted with an indelible ink, as though they came back to where they belonged. Potent under the night’s blanket, vanishing with the sun’s radiance.

It usually happens at 4 A.M.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s