And the smile for the sunshine and morning well spent fades
And it is hard to breathe.
My cat sleeps under my comforter, a warning of my mood.
I do not call, I am so sick of my own voice.
I want them to believe I am happy, well.
But for some unknown reason I am lost, broken again.
I do not have the energy to hate myself for this indulgence.
I morn nothing, I hate nothing,
And there is nothing but pain where my heart used to be.
I feel joy in fleeting moments and run from beauty;
Anything that could wake my heart from its sleep.
And yet, it dreams, of love and happiness and peace.
But in my waking world these dreams feel like nightmares.
And what sain person feels like that?