i'm done with all the poems about
how depressed people are in love
...with their beds.
i'm done with metaphors about
light and how "if it just shined
on me for a second i might
love again." for those of you
who are wondering i am not
whithout sympathy and my
eyes are wide with under-
standing. but i cannot help
but to think back to
the stinging pain behind my
eyes when i think that this might
romanticize the healing process
some might be facing. years of
accumulated pain have aged their faces.
tears straming down a gaunt complection of sickness
as they tell you the obvious "i am in love with my bed."
you see, us millenials, we tend to stumble around like children
who do not understand death, so caught up in the trends, but when
you're heartbroken and it's 3am- staring at a screen with a blue glow on your face
rereading how the past 6 months went and you're wasting away
so in pain. just remember, it's okay to
get up the next morning.