No one warns you of how lonely it gets.
I wish to be held like a child again and have my mother play with my hair while I drift to sleep on her lap.
Instead, all I can do is hug my pillow to feel my own warmth as I sob quietly.
YOU ARE READING
Nothing for My Thoughts
PoetryAnonymously sharing how I process difficult emotions while living abroad. . Edward Hopper: "Hotel Room", 1931
