Stares turn into a night left with unanswered questions
Hanging solemnly in the air
As I sit here alone, wondering what went wrong;
My fingers finding their way up and down my arm.
I tell myself it must have been something else,
That the sting of rejection was absurd
And yet, I find myself up all hours of the night
Pouring my emotions into the frigid air.
As this morning approached I wandered and wondered
If I was merely overly sensitive to what happened
After those words left your mouth; though you just intensified that feeling.
As a result, my chest feels somewhat hollow in return
To the lack of warmth that I normally wake to by my side,
Fingers slipping out of my own with no explanation of their absence.
I don't take too well to this feeling,
This overwhelming sense of rejection that I feel is misplaced,
But have no facts supporting its absurdity, not today;
I keep to myself, hoping it will soon pass.
