the walls don't talk. the room don't echo. the floor don't creak. the door don't make a sound.
nothing makes a sound, nothing. everything is silent, and sadly, it's not the aesthetic type of silence, but the sad, broken and lonely silence.
she's lonely.
in a house full of people, she's lonely. in a class filled with students, she's lonely. in a home filled with bloodlines, she's lonely. in a world with her best friend, she's still lonely.
temporary fixes might be okay, but in a couple of weeks or months, the void will be larger than it was.
she is a woman filled with void, with stories, with pain, with trauma, with emptyness. she is a woman that is always referred to as a girl. a woman filled with opportunity and chances lost to stereotypes.
a woman who smiles rarely. a woman whose heart pounds loudly. a woman who trusts easily, who can divulge her deepest smelliest secrets to a stranger. a woman who thinks she falls in love so easily, but she's not yet sure of that fact because she's never been in love, or so she thinks.
she's a woman who's lonely.
YOU ARE READING
Something Mending -- VOL 1
PoetryOf Breaking hearts, young love, betrayal and pain. Of Mending hearts, familiar pain, unexpected hurt and aftermath. Of Healing hearts, underated heartache, pain and acceptance. Of Love, Love that is as deep sea. Pain, that knows no bounds. Strength...
