I sat on the soft white comforter of your bed, examining my surroundings. The coral pink of your walls blending perfectly with the mint colored decorations. You were sat in the black office chair subconsciously using the tips of your toes to twist you from side to side. Blonde strands of hair fell from the messy bun formed on your head into you face, softly moving back and forth with your breath. You stared down at your phone, scrolling through what I could only assume was Instagram or Twitter.

There was a silence between the two of us, a comfortable silence. It didn’t give me the sense of panic that the quiet usually leaves, settling in the pits of my chest. It wasn’t that awkward moment where both of us were lost and couldn’t find the words to say. I could sense the feeling of being content radiating off of the both of us. I picked at the frayed ends of my golden yellow sweater, hoping and praying that this moment could last forever, but alas it came to an end.

Now I lie in another’s bed, watching his breath rise and fall slowly, that same feeling of being content washing over me again, but this time with a mix of caution and fear hiding in the background as I remember how after moments like this everything seems to turn from sweet to sour.

I have no words.

There’s nothing left to say

I do my best to pull something from my brain but nothings there.

I want to just push this all away, but it won’t budge.

This has me at a breaking point, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.

All I can do is sit in the silence.

Alone in my room, with a pen and paper and try write out and explain to myself what the fuck has just happened.

But there’s nothing there, I’m out of words.