i'm done with all the poems about

how depressed people are in love 

...with their beds.

i'm done with metaphors about

light and how "if it just shined 

on me for a second i might 

love again." for those of you 

who are wondering i am not 

whithout sympathy and my 

eyes are wide with under-

standing. but i cannot help

but to think back to

the stinging pain behind my

eyes when i think that this might 

romanticize the healing process 

some might be facing. years of 

accumulated pain have aged their faces.

tears straming down a gaunt complection of sickness 

as they tell you the obvious "i am in love with my bed."

you see, us millenials, we tend to stumble around like children 

who do not understand death, so caught up in the trends, but when 

you're heartbroken and it's 3am- staring at a screen with a blue glow on your face

rereading how the past 6 months went and you're wasting away

so in pain. just remember, it's okay to

get up the next morning.