the other room

it’s a strange thing,

to be attached to someone

while also loving them.

it seems so similar, doesn’t it?

like how the stars in the sky

might as well just be planes.

to see someone grow,

see someone change,

see someone love,

and make it with another,

when they really aren’t someone.

it’s a storm of your heart hurting

and your dimples showing,

of your chest flailing around,

trying to stay afloat.

and it’s stuck in this inky black

that feels too good

and hurts so bad

and you just wish

someone would rip the bandaid

off your chest.

you try and listen to songs,

songs that feel how you feel,

but they never really get there.

it’s music playing

that you can’t quite place

in the other room

and you’re too tired

or sad (maybe both?)

to go take a look.

maybe you just don’t want to.

i hope they’re laughing,

in that other room

that i can’t go to.

i hope they never realize

how much i want

to be there too.

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