Crystal clear mason jars for the flowers I'll never get
A full size bed with that super large space to the side because the only thing it'll be 'full' of is me
Sometimes I grow tired of just being with myself
I find myself longing for company
Longing for attention
Stretching for touch
Yet nobody's listenin
My heart be feeling so cold sometimes
And on occasion I feel like just slapping it closed
I grow farther and farther from affection each year
And I wonder if this is what's meant to be
But at least when I'm alone there's a tranquility to it
The only chaos being what's residing in my mind
Yet this shit just gets tiring sometimes.
