(no subject)

[createdruin]

You're lips don't feel the same as they used to
you're lips don't taste the same as they used to
you're skin doesn't feel the same as it used to.
And as I turn over in bed,
I am lost.
This is not my bed.
This is not my house.
This is not my life.
I have become what I have never wanted to be.
This is not my life.
This is not my job.
This is not me.
I deny what cannot be true.
I am asleep and alone.
I am always alone.
I drift in and out of conscience-ness
losing control.
losing everything that was me.
I have become a part of you.
An empty chapter.
With not story of myself.
I have become who I never wanted to be.
Someone else.
I no longer feel security or strength in this bed.
I no longer feel content.
This is a place for sleep.
Not a place for comfort.
These sheets tell tales of loving times.
But have been faded by the long hours of the day.
This is not my place.
This is not my life.
This is not me.
It's not the same anymore.

I want to be secure.
I want to be comfortable.
I want to be trusted.

I want to be myself.
I have dreamed of knowing who I am.
But I am attached.
Stuck in these pillows and blankets.
The warmth like a fever waiting to be broken.
I am wrapped in these sheets.
I am bound to these pillows.
I am prisoner in my own bed.
In my own life.

You can't understand.
You will never understand.

This is not my bed.
This is not my room.
This is not my house.
This is everything I never wanted to be.