Literature
Johnlock: It's Three A.M
It's three A.M,
And I don't know,
Where you are.
I stare at the ceiling,
So blank, so endless,
And I cry.
Your voice,
It seeps into my mind,
Like a vice.
I want to take a hold of it,
And never let it go.
I dream that you are still here,
Speaking to me in that rough voice,
That I have come to love,
Over time.
It's three A.M,
And I don't know what to do.
The bottle in my hand,
It keeps returning to my lips,
Empty.
I go get a new bottle.
The silence is breaking me,
The ticking of the clock,
Choking me,
Burning me,
Killing me.
Tick, tock,
Tick, tock,
Tick...
Tock.
I cho