I wash the blankets which I will
Sleep Under
Because I don't want
Your Scent
surrounding me, further honing
The Lacerations
in my heart.
If I go to bed tonight, it will be
On The Couch
Because You do not request nor
Require
my company.
Truthfully, you seem apathetic
about my existence, one way
Or Another.
I want to read books and discuss
Social Downfall,
our fingers sticky with pizza grease
our hearts filled with laughter
Love
and hope.
Instead I shiver under the blanket
Of Silence
completely alone,
an enormous, wet tear of
Sadness
with no beginning or end.
It will always be
This Way,
because I am one of the
Broken Toys
that slipped past God's
Quality Control.