忘 Drift Away 忘

The hours between 12am and 6am have a funny habit of making you feel like you’re either on top of the world, or under it.

You don’t want to fall in love. You don’t want to touch the curves of their body and remember every part. You don’t want to tangle your hands through their hair. You don’t want to kiss them like it’s the only thing you live for. You don’t want to hold them close hearing their heart beat against your chest. You don’t want to memorise the sound of their laugh as if your mind recorded it. You don’t want to know how their hands feel delicately intertwined with yours. You don’t want to see them unhappy. You don’t want to feel them drift apart. You don’t want them to tell you they must leave. You don’t want to see them go. And not look back. Because it kills. And you don’t want to die.