Alone

My soul tastes like neglect.

Like the rotting fruit resting in the produce drawer of your fridge.

Like the plants, somber and wilted, trying to survive in the dark and unsustainable corners of your house.

Like the months of silent landlines and forgotten “I love yous” we never tell our parents.

Like the untouched bible and hollowed out prayers I think are going to save me...

@anarosewood