This room smells like sadness and stale

cigarettes

and the air is thick and humid and this

Xanax

in my system is slowing my

brain

down so that the letters of your name are

replayed

over and over again in my

mind.

Someone asked me what my poems were

about

and I respond blankly with the word

"nothing"

because that's all I feel when I think of the

fact

that you don't love me. Why don't you love

me?

Why are these pills the only thing that can make me feel

anything?