mute

My heart's not as vacant as I say it is.
I avoid the touch of the sun because even that feels too heavy on my skin these days.
I blame these sleepless nights on insomnia, but I still can't be honest with myself.
It was when I noticed you occupied my thoughts that dread occupied my being.
And my heart's not as vacant as I say it is, but if I say it enough....

I told him I just didn't feel like anything anymore,
And he thought that meant I wanted him to fix me.

I don't tell him much anymore.

I'm picking at my words like they're last night's left-overs.
My stomach wants to throw out all its contents, but my guilty conscience won't let it.
And these days it's getting harder to look at myself.
Living quietly, I didn't know I could be swallowed by the shadows like this.
And these days it's getting harder to look like myself.

Silence is not the sanctuary I thought it to be;
Staring at stars while I'm stranded in the static.

It's not as romantic as it sounds.

My hands are sore like my throat is sore; I don't remember words being this heavy.
But maybe I've forgotten more than just that.
These words stomp around in my head and I get migraines.
And I just want to forget again why I even tried in the first place.
My body is sore.

I've never been afraid of the dark until
I couldn't breathe without forcing myself to.

I don't know why I wanted to feel empty when empty feels so lonely.