I feel like I’ve hit my head against a table.

Every time I wake up and think of you,
I feel like I’ve hit my head against a table.
It’s way too early, very unpredictable, and extremely unnecessary.
And the scar is beginning to show.

But worst of all,
Whenever it happens on a Monday,
It leaves an anything-but-bitter aftertaste,
That lasts the week,
Or perhaps till our next ‘hey you’.

Nothing out of the ordinary, that,
Just only the foundation for another table smack.