Hanging my head,
At the edge of the bed.
Watching the ceiling.
Thinking,
About all those times,
My reactions stumbled out,
Revealing a contorted view,
Of sanity.
To all those strangers.
In some bizzare way,
We met again
And became regulars.
Hoping somehow,
That memory doesn’t,
Come to them.
~S.H.~
Beautiful. 🙂