I think of you one thousand, four-hundred and forty minutes every day.

You're the string of hope 

That I grasp onto 

And my fingers are stinging from the burn of me slipping.

Every night in the darkness, I awake in the 3 o'clock hour,

And my only worry is that you're in your bed

Safe and sound

Peacefully sleeping.

Every time I think of you,

My little heart trips over the beat it forgot to take.

Your eyes are the blood rushing through my veins.

And

Your voice,

It fills every part of me.

You make me feel alive.

And

I put my all into appreciating

Every teeny thing there is to know about you.

And whether I'm writing an essay about Bill Cosby's Pound Cake Speech,

Or 

I'm lying in my bed with a lit candle in the scent of honey blossoms-

Listening to love songs,

You're the one thought running; racing through every track in my mind.

But 

In those one thousand, four-hundred and forty minutes of the day, 

Do I cross your mind at least once in the slightest?

 

-m.c.-