Oct 9, 2023
midnight smells like burnt toast while the tears dry against my cheeks and I remember the thousands of dreams that died on your lips
morning comes before sunrise while the dogs nudge me awake, hungry for breakfast and I pull myself out of the warmth of my bed
afternoon allows for a breath, only for a fleeting moment tho
evening shudders underneath the expectations of those dead dreams I only longer visit, only to crawl back into bed with them hidden beneath the mattress
every day I am haunted by ghosts who torment me awake and in my sleep of these I cannot change and cannot let go
summer, fall, winter, and spring - this cycle is playing on a loop, my own personal groundhogs day - sad and alone and unchanging
