In the middle of the day, you will wake up to the sound of an empty house and an empty heart and all the thoughts that once haunted you won't be there. They will haunt someone else. You'll look around and wonder what happened to all the living and passion you had caged somewhere deep inside you. Your soul on fire. Your soul in flames. What happened to all the want, desire for more? You will realize, not at first, that you have been consumed.
You'll lie back down on your comfortable bed, stare up at the water-stained ceiling, and be okay. You'll pull your worn blankets up to your chest, curl up underneath it, and look for their hand under the covers. You'll hold it, and feel nothing. Safe, and sleepy.
"I'm so in love with you's" turn into "I love you's" and eventually dissipate into nothing, a quiet understanding that the space between each other's lips are still saying it, a thin hope that things are as they once were; that the things left unsaid still linger in places no longer touched. Silence will speak for you.
This is what you've become: a faint hope for before, a need for routine, normalcy. Life is no longer ruthless, or raw. You've become ordinary.
