Breathe

I never understood what they meant

when they said ghosting through life.

That when you've lost so much

the only thing you can do is breathe.

Movement becomes robotic

and all speech seems programmed.

The exact phrase repeated to others

is the same message said to yourself,

"Yes, I'm fine... no, really... I'm okay"

Over and over again, until even you

start to believe there's some truth in those words.

But that's not how it really is, is it?

Not in this reality, nor the one

you force everyone else to accept.

It only becomes apparent when

you're alone after a heavy movie.

One that ends at two in the morning,

a time when the world. stands. still.

Your room resembles a false tomb

lit only by the dim glow of the credits

And that fucking upbeat indie song

feels a little ironic considering the conclusion.

So you're forced to remember

all the things you've been avoiding.

Finally, chest movements become rhythmic,

eyelids feel so burdensome

But all you can do is stare at that too blank ceiling

and breathe....