When it’s dark and silent — that’s when I think the most.
I lie awake and stare into the void
that I know would be my ceiling if I flipped on the switch,
but I just lie there,
Most of the time about my heart;
the person it aches for, beats for.
Other times I think about life;
how far I’ve come; how far I’m going.
And it’s exhausting.
Knocks me right out,
every single time.
And when I wake the next morning,
I forget last night ever happened.
Like clockwork —
There’s just something about the dark,
that makes the human heart
We get lost in a maze,
find comfort in dead-ends,
and stay there.
We stare into the void
because the truth is
we love the void.
Now why is that?
In the end, I conclude,
and this preconceived notion
that destruction is all I’m good for.
My body floats above the surface of my own ruins.
But my head sinks below it,
choking on water and drowning in thoughts
‘my heart was not a cannibal
until it met you’
Now it starves;
slipping away every moment you cease to exist.
And just like that
my mind goes blank
and I become the void.
Never occurring to me,
to flip on the switch.