My bed is the floor.
My food is the air.
My drink is my thought.
My clothes are my worries.
My thoughts are my poison.
My feelings are my surroundings.
My happiness is lost in my confusion.
My only comfort was you.

The silver pendant reminds me of your love, but it's cold.
It makes me feel empty.

The music gives me feelings, but they are fake.
I have no feeling now, and I am as numb as ever.

The window provides solace, but it is temporary.
It's cold outside, and I feel exposed.

The blanket is close, but nothing compared to your warmth.
It makes me wish you were here.

The notion of you is comforting, but only until I remember.
It makes me long for your thoughts on mine, and mine on yours.

The guilt and pain set in, but I can't bear them alone.
You are not here, I am alone.
Cursed to think, to care, to breathe.
Yet I will think about you tomorrow.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
You have the most beautiful eyes.

Is happiness so strong,
that it is difficult to capture?
Or are we all too ready
to feel something else?

Woke up this morning,
Blankets thrown off the bed.
I can only imagine
What had gone on in my head.