Most relationships are built on fantasies, illusions, and projection. I do not wish to cast blame. But all I feel is my own shame. Of how selfishly lame it all is. There was a time when there was nothing that needed to be said. That your nightgown was all that was needed. Thoughts of you were always in my head. Now there is a pain stabbing my heart and a faint echo of us.
Is there a point
when all words said are left unread,
roaming the halls of our minds
laying in an empty bed
Is there a point
When we drag our dying corpse
Through the day
avoiding each other
Is there a point
when we stay for
a promise of a home
that will never come.
Numb, alone
Bored, afraid
Detached to each other
Addicted to distraction
Idle is the hands
That scroll the feed
Idle is the eye
That can not see
Idle is the mind
That can not dream
I have come
To say I am done
That I have come undone
That there is nothing
Left to say
But,
Leave the nightgown
Buried in the ground
