I’m holding on to you,
My dear,
I’ll never let you go.
But what if space
Is what I need? I may be
Here, physically,
But my presence isn’t present.
I love you
Don’t you love me?
Yes, but I
Love myself more.
I’m holding on to you,
My dear,
I’ll never let you go.
But what if space
Is what I need? I may be
Here, physically,
But my presence isn’t present.
I love you
Don’t you love me?
Yes, but I
Love myself more.
She sits on the wooden shelf
An unwelcome grin etched on to her face
As the people around her
Mill around the house
Go about their day
And pay her no attention.
She waits
Patiently with her stiff limbs
Hoping all day
Today’s the day
When they come home
They’ll pick me up off of the shelf
And play with me.
The hour arrives,
The family trudges in
One
By
One
And they begin to mill around the house
And go about the rest of their day
Without a glance at the shelf
Where the doll sits by herself
Waiting for love.
Silence screams static into my ears
Every minimal sound
Is a bomb interrupting monotony.
Yearning for interactions with others
Even if they are not my own.
The dull glow of the silent television offers no comfort
The thumping music diminishes-
Not welcome at this time.
Visitors are welcome
But none come or go.
Right now, the only comfort
Comes from my own sanity.
But how much silence can I take?
How much silence can this room hold
Before it breaks?