I like being alone, not because I don’t care about people, but because peace feels safer than forced conversations and pretending I’m okay when I’m not. Some days, I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to answer messages, make small talk, or explain why I’m struggling. My mind feels so full…
My first love killed herself,
Not in the way you think,
Not with a gun to her head,
She got those gorgeous brown eyes,
So deep that one couldn’t return, even if they tried,
Perhaps it’s due to the precious tears she cries.
Left with none to wipe her eyes.
One Year Ago
I see the melancholy in my mirror as I rise and remember
One year ago I lost my father the 31st of December
I hear a silence that replays its own piercing echo
One year ago an audience sat in mourning row after row
