I’ve been around long enough
to know these wounds don’t heal.
I will wake up tomorrow
and put down half a bottle
of hydrogen peroxide,
hoping the void inside
my chest won’t get infected.
This ribcage is missing
more than just bones.
The black hole I met
in my living room
decided to stay for dinner.
He said you’re doing great.
I poured another glass
of regret and told him
that’s ironic.
I’ve realized this is just what
“okay” has become;
fists embedded in sheetrock promises,
sitting alone in the rooms where
everyone told me they would stay.

These things happen I suppose.
They always happen.
I used to care about something, you know.
I did.
I used to feel something when I stared at the sky.
Now the hardwood feels cold under my feet,
and my lungs have lost their warmth.
The clouds eat me whole as I walk home.
They smile.
Sometimes I do too.
But I've wandered too far this time,
these steps don't look familiar.
Someone still sleeps inside this house,
but it's not me.
Someone still lives inside these bones,
but it's not me.

Remember when you promised me
All your soul and body
And that I'd never slip
Below the crashing waves.

Just when it was calmest
You left me for the future
A future with no love or lust
At least not involving me.

To be happy, they say,
Live in the now.
I suppose I live in your past
So I hope your now is the happiest now
(You're the reason our now could never last.).

Silence.
Alone in an empty room.
Feeling so cold.
Needing somebody to hold your hands
and say "I'll be with you, I'll never leave you"
That's all I need.
Someone by my side.