Don't Stare at Ceilings

It's 2:00 am, and I stare at the ceiling. My body has never felt so awake. My entire skeleton reminisces about when I first saw you. It stung like a bee into my soul, it made my knees wobble like an Ali punch on Liston, my stomach floated like a butterfly.

It's 2:02 am, and I stare at the ceiling. My mind has never felt so alive. My cranium crackles with the time I first heard you speak. Such angelic beauty should never have been bestowed on me. My ears tingled like I just took a Mike Tyson bite.

It's 3:00 am, and I stare at the ceiling. My body has never felt more drained. My soul is no longer whole, rather ripped into two. I watched the final time I saw you, just walking away. I heard your last words, "You're just not good enough. I'm sorry."

It's 3:01 am, and I stare at the back of my eyelids. My mind has broken again.


- John Oeters