I’m not happy.
I haven’t been so for a long time.
I look at couples walking hand-in-hßand down empty streets, and I feel alone
I look at Aphrodite and Adonis walking out of gyms, and I feel exposed.
I look at students everyday in the same library windows, and I feel lazy.
I look at my own hands, empty but for the pen and paper that compose this poem, and I feel lost.
I look at myself in every mirror, in every half-tint of glass, and I feel wrong.
I look at my head, my heart, my soul, looking for some speck of solace in who I am,
and I feel, unhappy,
like I’ve been for a long time.