The sky blue rug tucks itself under my hair,
Over my wasted shoulders and covers negative space
Dispossessed from my bed, but a comfortable choice for now,
So the floor feels less lonely, and frankly so do I

No constraints, no thinking.
These rested legs dig my rutted stomach
This may be my only feeling, when you feel like a hollow head,
A detached spoon from it’s coffee

Once said, was that feeling is always with us
And maybe I’m just sad and unattached,
All I feel now is your ghost
And how is that anything?
It doesn’t hurt or bruise me,
Just cuts straight through me

05/02/2005

Posted on 05/02/2005
Copyright © 2026 Sam Roberts