The sky is grey and empty.
I pull on sweaters,
zip jackets,
tug at hoods,
layer after layer
to stay warm.
I’ve always been pale,
but I never looked this sick.
The coffee pot stays on
all day, and I still yawn
every few minutes,
crawl into bed, try to sleep.
People call, but I don’t go out.
Mail comes, but I don’t open it.
Life happens, but I don’t live it.
I stopped reading the paper last week.
Nothing changes.
(Source: inchesgiven)
The sky is grey and empty. I pull on sweaters, zip jackets, tug at hoods, layer after layer to stay warm. I’ve always...