Wrapped tight in a grey blanket
Staring for what feels like hours
Dead inside
And the soft fabric slowly sleeps as minutes pass
Until it sits around my waist
I stand up to readjust
The only movement in hours
The blanket falls from the chair
A puddle of sadness on the floor
I scoop it up and let it hug around me one more
Returning to my staring it does it once more
My grey puddle of sadness on the floor