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Stuck in Solitude

Updated on May 11, 2015

I sit on my bed, and start to look around.


My room is beautiful beyond imagination.

I have collected such fine pieces throughout my life and my travels.

But you're not here.


My closet is divine, every color, shape and pattern a young girl can dream of.

But you're not here.


Girls in their twenties would kill to put their foot to the pedal of my car.

It goes from 20 mph to 80 mph in a few seconds and shines like the deep blue sea.

But you're not here.


My house is tidy, my bank well kept. Hair is luscious

But you're not here.


Long lived days filled with progression and persistence, I am moving forward with every step.

But you're not here.


I am healthy. I live, eat and sleep health. My body thrives on my exercise.

But you're not here.


The food I prepare is phenomenal. Others dying to sink their teeth in.

Dinner is served.

But you're not here.


Clean sheets line my bed. Pillows fluffed, simple melodies play in the distance.

But you're not here.


Alarms go off in the a.m, I roll over to greet the day.

But you're not here.


Eagerly awaiting the day, glance in the mirror, hand falls upon my chest and I feel my heart beat.

You are here.

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