It's 3am again, the city's quiet and the bed is wideI reach across by habit to a space you left behindI'm not even sad about you really, it's the having someone thereThe weight of a person breathing, the small intimate unfair3amNobody to text that isn't gonna make it worse3amWhen the loneliness stops being funny and becomes the honest verseI make the jokes all day because the jokes are how I copeI turn the ache into a punchline and I package it as hopeBut here at 3am there's no audience to playJust me and all the wanting that the daylight keeps awayI don't want a situationship, I don't want a maybe or a gameI want someone who stays till morning and remembers my whole nameI want the boring kind of love, the kind that's there at 3amThe kind that isn't content, just a person, just a them3amNobody to text that isn't gonna make it worse3amBut I'd rather feel it honest than keep laughing through the hurtOne day. Not tonight. But one day. I believe that. Mostly
