Four What It’s Worth?

Self inflicted heartbreak doesn’t hurt any less.
When I put on my makeup
Or slip into a nice dress,
I’ll think of you.

Lost opportunities to dance under stars,
Songs never sung
To the beat of our hearts.
I’ll think of you.

I’ll wonder always if this was right.
Should I have tried harder?
Did I pick the right fights?
I’ll think of you.



Lethargy begets more lethargy,

I’ve been told a thousand times

And though I know this, I can’t help but feel this is all

I want to do.

This skull, the constant domed prison, with my mind stretched to the bone.

This skin, its ever changing hue, marketed as security, stretched over me.

This bed, the comfort of the four corners, with striped canvases stretched across me.

It’s all I want to do.

This room, the confines of the four walls, with faces stretched around me.

It’s all I want to do.

Want is a funny word for it

In all honesty, I don’t want at all

But it’s all I can bear to do.

This house, the rooms devoid of life, with myself etched into its every corner, stretched over what used to be.