i'm staring at ceilings
and i don't remember
them being this
dull

i never noticed
that they were
grey and pale
                                                              
that they were
bare and filled
with cracks
and crevices

never knew
that they had
nothing interesting
to boast

i just never
saw them
this way

maybe it's because
i'm just tired

or maybe it's because
the last time i stared
at the ceiling
was with you

and i was not actually
focused on
just staring

i was holding your hand
and i was feeling the
veins that lived
inside your skin
and feeling your bones,
wondering if they
ever felt like they
were not bones
when i'm around        
like how mine did
when you are      
holding me

and i was listening
to your breathing
and i was thinking
about how the
repetitive sound
of you
filling and hollowing
your lungs of air
managed to
captivate me

it's a thing
all people do:
breathe

but your breathing
pattern was my
definition of
home

and right now,
i'm feeling
rather homesick

and the ceiling
is being
oh so dull

and everything
is oh so boring
      
without the
distraction of
your steady
breathing and
your hand in
mine