I wonder

How does it feel to have someone inside of you that doesn’t care about you. That doesn’t care how you sleep. That doesn’t care what you’ll have for breakfast the next day. That doesn’t care how you drink your coffee when reading a book on a rainy day. That doesn’t care what the meaning behind your words truly hold. That doesn’t care why, when the light hits your eyes, there seems in just that moment, the smallest glimmer of an entire life of pain. How does it feel, knowing how customary it is for them to enter and exit, providing the briefest of pleasures before uncorking the tub drain to wash away the ocean that is your soul’s empty heart. How does that feel my dear, how does that feel?

Nov. 15 2013