Posted September 3, 2016 by Ari Augustine in Lit Life / 0 Comments

I miss you.
These words are what I
Tell myself as I exit the room.
These walls are dull.
These halls are grey.
This heart is numb.
I wish I could miss you.
These words aAre what I should say, 
Should feel
Between my ribs like pounding fists
against the wall.
I exit the room, my fingers
lightly clinging to the frame.
I am afraid that if I let go,
The part of you inside me will die,
These walls will fall away,
These halls will disappear.
This heart will be homeless
In an alley somewhere,
Bickering with a stray cat
About all the ways I went wrong.
Author – Ariana Nelson
Photography – Pixabay

About Ari Augustine