nothing on a wednesday

The lamp is glowing warm, but the screen is blue-bright.
I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe
And the air is making its way back up
Crawling through every word unspoken,
If a word unsaid remains as such,
Who knows the friends I have,
Or lost.
This ancient refrain is losing its tune
And words have stopped rhyming.
Perhaps a while ago I would write a sonnet,
Now I can’t even pick up a pen.
The words unspoken
Have not been with me at all.
There is nothing more to say
Maybe im not angry, just lonely
It’s the little things that make all the differe.

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