we were emaciated; ruined  
much like the twisted silence at the foot of your bed
a hollow battle field where our hearts would lay
and in nooks of tangled legs and distraught blankets
our secrets would hide

then at night fall they would dissapate
into the cage we called a home,
to poison the atmosphere already swollen
with ambigious thoughts and supressed dreams
  
we wait for rain
and we wait for the sun
but never reach into the atmosphere

so like our secrets we lay dormant
in our monotonous routines
and our open eyed sleep