3AM Thoughts (18)

So it grows quiet. The conversations you shared become bleak. His voice becomes an anthem you forget the lyrics to so you etch them down on your skin every night before falling asleep. You go to the grocery store and buy the usual. Breakfast tastes empty. The juice pours down from your glass into the sink as you watch its color disappearing, much like the warmth from your heart is disappearing day by day. There is no sink in there, so what will you do about that? Maybe learn, in time, that everyone leaves. Everyone fades. And things rot. The eternal sunshine remains no more. You become undiscovered all over again.