happy

if it feels like monday when it isn’t

and you’re there in the blue tinged aisle with cellophane stars

and all you can feel is the ship sinking where your stomach should be and your eyes go dark and your mouth feels dry and you wonder if anyone else feels this way,

you are not the only empty one.

go outside and fill your lungs full up,

just because you still can.

find yourself in the stranger that passes you by who is all absences inside,

smile at him. He will remember it, I promise.

maybe its just your brain, working itself into a tizzy because you looked around and realized things aren’t right and they haven’t been for a while and you can’t seem to convince yourself they ever will be.

maybe you’re love starved and lonely and knocking about your hollow life

rattling old ghosts of people who never apologized for taking a little bit of you,

when they left.

slam the door, open the windows.

this will not fix it, but maybe it will make it a little easier to bear

I can already hear you saying,

is this it? is this all?

no, love, this is not it, this is not all.

this isn’t the end, it can’t be.

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