and i'm laying on my bed. my mother sits on the edge of my bed, talking happily about my stepdad while i'm here pretending that i don't hold my tears back. my mother knows you, she would often ask me about you and how you are doing. now, that we're over and you're gone, how do i tell her that under this smile is a shattered heart seeking for comfort and refuge. i'm happy for my mother but it doesn't make me feel any better. i'm still sullen, heart on the floor and still not planning to pick it up. it's 12 in the midnight and i still don't know what to do.
