I am the unwritten dictionary definition
  of damaged goods
I have so much baggage
  that I lose the airport
there isn’t a single spot on my heart
that doesn’t have a stitch or a scare
I have become so comfortable
in my solitude
that I no longer remember
what it feels like to be lonely

how absurd is it to feel lonely
nearly eight billion people on the planet
and yet we can feel so isolated
and disconnected from one another
that we dare let our hearts
be taken hostage by loneliness

that we let the breath
of the moment be stolen
let words die in our throats
before they leave our mouths
as if we had nothing to say

to each other

to our selves

self inflected wounds caused by
the doubts we plant
in the dying gardens of our own minds
happiness nothing but a wooden quote
framed and hanging on our walls
mocking us
laughing at us

love nothing but a mask
so we can feel normal
sitting side by side
while our hearts drift
farther and farther apart

form each other

from our selves

how often does the past
****** the present
how much damage does yesterdays pain
carry into today

when will I let go of the names and the ghosts
that steal what might be joyful
when will I let it all burn down to cinder and ash
and exhale all of the smoke
that is nothing more than regret and fear

when will I take back today

when will I rewrite my own definition

of who i am

who I want to become

who will I be when this body
is lowered into the ground

someone too afraid
to have lived

too afraid
to have loved

or someone who had lived
someone who had loved

will death notice my departure
or will I have been dead
before I had died

how long will I let my solitude
be so comfortable
that I forget to feel lonely