It’s a 2 am ache,
Rising sharp at 5 pm,
Like every hour before it,
Like every hour after.
In the in-between minutes,
There are heartbeats,
Mingling and distracting
From this punctual vacuum.
I swear I deleted your face,
I don’t remember your name,
I can’t recall your smile,
Or your scent or taste.
I’ve removed your words,
The brand of your touch,
You don’t laugh in memories,
Because you don’t exist anymore.
You never were, never will be,
It was the easiest thing to do,
After a while of being the toughest,
Reached last but finished my race.
There’s the 2 am ache,
An SOS no other radio can receive,
Emitted and caught by atoms in my bones,
On a special kind of stupid loop,
It’s feedback without melodic genius:
This special, non-hummable 2 am ache.