i am laying on a bed once familiar to me
i feel empty
in a strange, acquainted kind of way
i am clutching fistfuls of sheets and broken dreams
and the storm rolls in
i am under a roof but
i swear i can feel the rain
it has been like this for a while now
but i have not grown accustomed to
the hollowness in my chest
and every breath feels like
blood is pumping through my body
and it is not my own
i am laying on a bed once familiar to me
and i wonder if I will ever feel whole
again
i am whispering secrets to my walls
and my floorboards start to sweat
because every story ends with "i still
feel like this"
and i do not know
if i will ever stop