tired

430 52 2
                                    

i've moved on
from pill bottles
that are always full
to silences that last
even through the brightest
of smiles:

broken promises to stay
that i can't keep
because
gone are the days
of drawn out suicide notes -

now it's in with
the weeks that lack time
and the months that
pass in between
doubts of existence.

am i real?

god, i hope so.

give it up, ghost.Where stories live. Discover now