12

I’m suppose to be twelve short hours away.
I’m suppose to be twelve short hours away.
I’m suppose to be twelve short hours away.

I’ve been waiting four weeks to see the woman I love, but she doesn’t love me, and I won’t be seeing her.

I got an email today. My flight is ready for me to check in. I had planned to be wheels up in the a.m. I want to be wheels up in the a.m. And an insane part of me is contemplating making that flight and dealing with everything left for me to do here later. I could go to Miami in the morning…

I’m suppose to be one sleep away.
Tomorrow night I’m suppose to lay looking love’s way.
I’m suppose to be happy and in love.
A part of a baby power couple.

I’m dressed. I’m sitting on the side of my bed, dressed.
I got asked out. This woman asked me out for drinks. I said ok.
Nothing about me wants to go out. But I’m dressed.
The thought of sitting at a bar with some woman I don’t know…
I think I’m going to be sick.

This week has been ok, but now every emotion I had is rushing back.
I knew I would feel this way.
I knew emotions would flood me because I’m supposed to be twelve short hours away.

Why does this hurt me?
It hurts me.
It hurts.
I’m suppose to be twelve short hours away.

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