I watch as the color of loneliness fades from the sky and I pull back the curtains to admire the forest ground you walked upon those summer evenings.

I suppose there's something to be said about the monsters in the world who try to have a heart.

Maybe most songs start with apologies for a reason and there's a soul that can be defrosted even in the dead of winter.

But the creases of these bedsheets hold stories of many nights of regret and hollowness regardless of the invitations I sullenly subdue to.

There once was a time I'd say I do this for myself but lately I've been having a hard time blinking the sleep from my heavy eyelids.

There's a fine line between yes and no and being wanted and being used. Somehow I found myself tangled in the process of discovering who I want to be.

There's enough bottles laying around here to be considered a suicide and amidst all of the resent laying in the crevices of this house, I find comfort knowing at least one of us gets what we want.

There's no escaping a situation you deserve to be in, so I open my eyes into yours and let you nestle in the cave once called my heart for as long as you wish to stay.

I packed your bags for you and shivered away the nostalgia for something that hasn't happened and chain smoked as I watched the sun disappear behind the horizon.

Some of us deserve a love that takes our breath away, but as I crawl into used bedsheets I understand I'm not part of that majority and I have nobody but myself to blame.