I can’t help it.
Missing the days when I woke up to gray instead of the deep blue that I do now. My eyes won’t adjust. Feeling no warmth and somehow comforted by the constant cold, despite the sun, despite personable conversation. Missing the mornings when I woke up to stale silence and sandpaper air. Knowing that the cat at the foot of my bed held the most company and/or conversation for the day. Searching for some human attributes in her so I could convince myself that she was listening- something I wasn’t sure anyone was truly capable of.
You have to relate to know. Everyone’s restless. Restless.
I can’t,
shouldn’t,
don’t?
Now, there are two holes instead of one. God has only so much as a foot in the first. Not enough.
The second is filled with unwanted thoughts- rage, doubt, fear. And, most of all, company- constant company. Not of God. Not of me.
Because I want childhood
And childhood is not of company
It’s strangers
All strangers
