enjoy my sad ramblings.

The touch of twilight tastes the lonely edges of my bed, and the soft glare of the faded sun kisses my bedsheets until they turn grayer than gray. I miss you. I miss the visceral loneliness of the wait. Come sing me a song.
My room is a mirror image of the world behind the glass window, of the sky and the thousands of glimmering lights dotting the mountainside. It feels like dawn and everything is only an outline.
Beach Baby by Bon Iver is playing and my thoughts are tangled mess. I hate you. I love you. You are far away and you are with somebody else. What am I doing to myself?
The sky has faded to a light blue and a murky red. These hues pain me. How many nights have I spent, sitting on the same chair, looking outside the same lonely balcony longingly, waiting for you? How many times have I cried listening to the same Ben Howard song?
I feel like running and running and running. It feels like a hazy summer night. It is not.
I’m looking at my hands again. They aren’t mine. None of me is me anymore. Was it ever? I’m feeling cloudy once more, like a stranded wooden ship in a sea of green, misty water.
There’s a half-eaten cookie on a plate in front of me.
Ten minutes kissed away by my eyes and the sky is dark, still. My bedsheets are barely visible now. I will go outside.
It’s purple now.