There’s always low points in life.
Mine are usually at four in the morning.
Staring at the ceiling.
Light another one, down another and another.
Dull the pain, keep me sane, far away from each other.
A thousand miles, a hundred feet, a couple passing moments.
Promises like glass, shattering when broken.
But we down another, and another, just to keep from one another.
Storms that rage with words that strike like thunder.
Walked away, packed our bags, said it’s best to separate.
Never mind the future that we planned to create.
Up awake, late nights, thinking of my passing whims.
Repressing thoughts of her and him.