Grief Written

I never thought someone could become a habit. Habits were the way I bit my lip and nails. Habits were the way I rubbed my left collarbone when I felt anxious. Habits were the way I always brushed my teeth before I washed my face. Habits were where I put my keys everyday when I came in the front door. Habits were the way I always did my laundry on Sunday, just Sunday. But you never realize habits until someone points them out. And you never realize you're doing them until you catch yourself doing it, especially the bad ones. No ground teeth, torn lips, or ragged nails could compare to my favorite bad habit. The one with brown eyes and messy hair. I habitually thought of him. He simply became muscle memory, the clink of keys hitting the tray without me even looking up or pausing at the doorway. I didn't realize he was habit until my teacher caught me biting my nails and lip, grinding my teeth, and she begged me to stop. But I couldn't. I didn't realize what I wa...

I know I don't make any sense Because I'm ignoring him Opening his messages without a reply But he keeps typing Until he stops Three messages in he stopped Told me if I wasn't going to respond he wasn't going to write And I know two wrongs don't make a right But I'm not feeling alright Or okay Because he gave up three minutes in Three minutes Like three years can amount to only three minutes of effort I can't respond I want to But I won't And he won't write me I'm trying to preserve some dignity. Because I'm tired of being an afterthought And if I wanted him to speak to me all I had to do was reply But I'm hoping he'll think and try Three years worth of trying He probably won't Because he's not thinking of ways to be with me Or ways to get me back Or ways to get me to respond He's thinking of her with long blonde hair And a laugh like bells The girl who draws and paints The girl he sees everyda...

I told you I was exhausted. You suggested I sleep more, To which I replied I sleep for hours and still don't feel okay. "Sounds like depression" you said To which I disagreed. You sifted through causes but found none, And laying here I've figured it out. I sleep but not really. I fall asleep each night with my heart in my throat, fluttering like I swallowed a frantic bird. Because I left my sound on And I'm waiting for you to call, But as time drags on I slow my breaths and coax my frantic bird of a heart  back into its cage. And that bird doesn't sing Neither does my phone. I'm learning to fall asleep alone. And the silence is exhausting.