I wake up at the crack of dawn to find myself right back in my own bed.
I am smoking out of boredom, because it brings me right back down again.
I just cannot remember any of the things you said, because I chose to forget them,
Unaware of the circumstances or this feeling of uncompromising loss.
I was hoping that you would call me,
But I probably wouldn't even listen.
I wake to find my life in shambles,
And constant nightmares haunt me every night.
I won't admit how much that I miss you, because I am just far too proud to.
Broken lives are never truly whole ever again.
These tired eyes.
These cold mornings.
These pointless holidays that we know that we dread next week.
I lay down at the crack of noon, just reflecting everything from the past week:
Separation and anxiety has occupied my mind,
And has taken me in a different direction.
A convolution with no intention to make things right.
These cold mornings have brought me down.
Like an anchor without a ship, I am sinking without a purpose.
I head outside for fresh air and a smoke.
I catch a sheet of paper out the corner of my eye.
Its strange refusal against the wind...
Its resistance to a futile cause…
After a brief moment, it lets go.
It hits me like a rock.
I understand that everything I've done wasn't strong.
I'm out of my character.
I've got to fix my life and my state of mind.
Put on some clothes, head out the door, turn on the car, and just drive.