Incomplete

I spoke to you, in the smoky room with the windows closed

And we could barely breathe but we were alive.

I looked in the mirror and saw someone that could be me

That I didn’t want to be me.

I’ve lived so long behind smokescreens and walls

They’re cold cocoon has become my comfort, my home.



I fear to step beyond them would lead to my disintegration

And yet in these convenient spaces,

I do not thrive or grow,

I slowly wither away, under my fear, under my solitude.

In this room, there is no one else, nothing else.

But I spoke to you, you were far away and I spun

The tales that made me feel real,

And we spun them together and then we stopped,

Because in these convenient spaces there is only room for one.

And we drift away into our isolation,

Floating to neverwhere once again.