I was told to become my own best friend so I tried I really tried bundled up and took myself out coffee shops, jazz bars, long walks sat for hours wrapped in thought sometimes truly felt okay but on down days hugging myself just never felt quite the same
Do you still think of me? Or is my memory strewn haphazardly across frost-bitten sidewalks like once-beloved Christmas trees? Formerly prized possessions decaying near piles of garbage having served their purpose in due time replaced by others, perky and piercing green
The radiator screams intrudes a good night's sleep and derails my dream the only place these days I feel peace
I’m left to stare at the ceiling envying all the rest my upstairs neighbors are getting I wonder, what are they dreaming as the heat ensconces me and I turn to my side waiting apprehensively for the next shriek