She contemplated waking up before the rain
In the hopes of feeling something--
Something other than dreary dreadful dread.
Maybe that sounds childish
And maybe, just maybe, that's okay.

I'm dreading.

To pack everything,
from the place we used to call ours.

The empty boxes are staring back at me.

I can't bring myself to fill them.

I'm scanning the apartment that used to be ours..

I'm seeing our history repeating itself.

I somehow see your shadow from the kitchen,
and mine from the living room.

I hear your laughter when you mess up cooking..

And suddenly you're everywhere, and I'm paralyzed.

I can't move you into boxes, and I can't leave you.

Yet I need to leave you within this walls..

When I would visit Ohio, my grandma always said
certain things in Spanish, as to not flood my head.

I wish I understood that secret life she led
by interpreting her knowledge, I know to have been well read,

But now my striving hunger will never be quite fed,
for now those precious, foreign words are unforgivingly dead.

Oh, how I cry very often, at night while I’m in bed.
Regrets like these don’t go away, so I try to cope instead.

I’ll never forget her loving Spanish ***** (that memory’s never fled),
even though my nostalgic heart regretfully succumbs to dread.

dread reaches both hands into my throat
to take the air from my very lungs
my breath comes shorter and shorter and i fear for my life
i lay awake, wondering when my death will arrive
how soon
how soon
how soon

My heart feels so full,
Sometimes
I can taste it on my tongue.

Like I could burst
Into a violent explosion.

My anxiety and dread
Released into the air.

Suspended pollens.

Oh how I dread these sleepless nights
Where my own mind is drunk on its thoughts that prey on my existence.

Thoughts of fear, hate, loneliness, and sorrow.

I fear my existence is too short to live the life i want and i fear my choices have been unwise and with no gain.

I hate the thoughts of hate
but hate provokes me
in ways i never knew.
I hate not knowing my future.
Not even in the slightest
and i hate that its because of my own self.

The thoughts of loneliness are by far the worst because they show my true reality of today. And for tomorrow. 

And sorrow is a lonesome thought that passes by and it scares me to think of how much I hate it.

Its sad to say how much i hate
These sleepless nights