it’s not being able to find comfort in anyone’s arms.
it’s getting goosebumps when the water is warm.
it’s being trapped in a treehouse you made for yourself.
it’s not knowing how to reply to every, “are you okay,”
because the truth is bitter, and you just cant lie.
it’s listening to the same
tune again and again
and not realizing.
at an empty page,
full of words.