The air falls silently,
incomplete repetition,
***** office carpet,
flickering ceiling light,
empty, collapsing, cubicles.

The wallpaper fades before your eyes.
People change.
You will die.

It takes emotion to be a true friend,
not presence,
just care,
intention.

Work will eventually mean nothing.

It doesn't matter if you are remembered.

Memories bleed a bed in which to lay.

The ribs break.

Clattering silverware as your parent's worry wins.

Silent dinners seeping dread.

The window panes crack,
dissolving into your mind.

You dream merely what you want to see,
not for others.

Crying heard muffled through the walls.

Futile attempt.

Shaking hands.

Scars, existent as not.

Childhood smile.

Scraped knee.

Painful silence.

It will all be good-
day,
night,
tomorrow,
future,
past,
-bye.

Stay with me one more moment.
One more minute.
One last time.

It will be okay.
Everything will be okay.