pulling my tired bones and muscles out a bed that seems too big for me now
in a room that once held laughter and love without terms and conditions
i don’t replace the light bulbs anymore and i don’t change the sheets as often as i should and the pile of laundry is suffocating me
i replay the night over and over in my head of you laughing and me spilling whiskey and bodies too close but too far for anything real

i can still hear the chorus of “will you let me in” like it’s my own heartbeat