Scribbled Thoughts

20:98

It’s been days since I

saw this bed,

with its walls of pages

that soothe my soul.

The air is hot and stale,

contained and concealed

from the rest of the world.

Instead, the sofa had been

home, with the natural

breeze of nature able

to touch it, but the added

benefit of aching muscles

and an absent body.

When you’re not here,

I can’t bear to sleep

upstairs, alone in a

bed meant for two.

Instead I live on

restless sleep and

lonely dreams, waiting

for the days you can

join me, the days I

can sleep safely

in your arms.

20:97

I like to watch depressing

stories, people’s lives

that never recover.

It grounds me,

slaps me awake,

and focuses my life,

to see how lucky

I really am.

I have bad days,

so what?

I’ve never really considered

suicide, or felt so

alone I could just die.

I’ve been ignored and bullied,

but never invisible to

those who love me.

I am lucky,

and selfish,

feeling worse-off than

I am. But somedays you

just need to feel sorry

for yourself.

Float a little

before you ground yourself

again, to the better

existence you have.