DROWNING
Loneliness is the sound of rattling window panes in an empty house.
With each heartbeat of silence after, the loneliness intensifies exponentially.
Loneliness is the color of peeling paint.
Each stroke is visible in the cracks.
It's definite neglect in the color palate, an ocean of abandonment.
Loneliness smells of faint traces of home.
Open windows that let buttery sunshine in are now closed, and shake until the sound bounces around the skull.
Bright hues of yellow on cabinets, bloody maroon accent walls, all peeling away.
Loneliness is knowing that this home is gone now.
In it's place: a stranger.
YOU ARE READING
Picking Up The Pieces
PoetryAn anthology of poems written by me. The uploads will be in 2 parts. The Before is part 1, and The During and The After will be part 2. This is the story of my recovery from PTSD, An Eating Disorder, and Sexual Assault.
