The first night is always the hardest.
And you thought that maybe the second might be easier,
So will the following.

Perhaps you'll get used to it gradually
But that's not true.

It cuts deep every time you wake up,
Having to accept the reality all over again.
You're on a perpetual suicide
Except that you wake up instead of die.

Some days I wake up brave enough to tell the world every secret hidden in my being.

But other days I wake up to mend myself to the walls and blend in to every corner of the room.

I can't breathe enough to stay alive much less muster up the words to carry a conversation.

I've become the pale shade of gray that meets the wooden floors and white ceilings.

Let me stay here. Hidden among the walls.

I can't cry anymore.
I've lost every counted hour of sleep.
No words can form any sensical sentences.
I'd go weeks without talking if you'd let me.

I don't know where I've gone but I know its not here.

Am I still the first you think of
When your eyelids flutter awake
And the last on your mind till you drift away into deep sleep as always

I think of you still, especially at ungodly hours
Then it got to me that, has it ever been me at all