12:41

Julia Bulick

its 12:41 and my heart is racing but it isn't because of the cold coffee i've gulped to suppress the calls of slumber. my fingers are shaking but it isn't because i've been bent over an essay, scrawling chicken scratch words onto a paper that's blotted with ink and tears and misspellings. its because of you. you and your bright eyes like the light reflecting off the moon and your smell, sharp and sweet like the taste of mint. its 12:42 now, and as my clock blinks all i can think of is your hands, your hands and your arms and the curve between your collarbone and your neck that my head fits perfectly in when you held me at night. its 12:42 and i miss you so powerfully, so deeply that my entire being aches. 12:43, and nothing will ever be the same.