It’s not sadness,
not really.
It’s the space after the storm,
where nothing grows,
and nothing dies.
It’s not the tears,
it’s the absence of them.
Eyes dry,
but not clear.
Just blank.
You remember when you used to feel things.
Songs would split you open,
sunsets made you cry,
a laugh could save you.
Now you just nod
and pretend.
They ask,
“Are you okay?”
And you say,
“Yeah.”
Because you don’t know what else to say
when nothing’s really wrong
and everything is.
It’s like watching your life
through a fogged up window.
you’re there,
but not really.
Not sad,
not happy,
just
here.
Breathing,
but not alive.
Moving,
but not living.
And the scariest part is,
you start to get used to it.
Like numbness is safer
than pain.
Like feeling nothing
is easier
than risking
everything.
You miss
missing things.
You miss
feeling full,
or even broken.
You’d take pain
if it meant
you could still feel alive.
But for now you hope that
just maybe
something warm
will reach you
before you forget
what warmth even means.