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God, I hate nights like this.

Nights where watching him take care of her, hold her as she coughs and sniffles, watching him love her breaks me.

And I get to feeling so damn lonely it's difficult to breathe. Not because I want him to love me.

I just want somebody to love me like that. I want to be able to love somebody like that in return.

I hate nights like this. Nights where the piano can't purge it away, where no matter how you hammer the keys, that hole in your chest is still empty and opening wider. Where singing is hollow and bottomless and comes from some area above your heart, squeezing out from your throat and your mouth but not ebbing the ache away from your soul. Where poetry is dim and useless and you find yourself quoting ridiculous song lyrics instead of thinking of anything useful and then the frustration drowns you and you find you've drenched the page into little ugly inkblots and what the hell, it was stupid anyway, right?

Those nights where everything about you is ugly and heavy and you need someone to come and just hug you so tightly your bones crack and you won't have to breathe anymore.

God I hate nights like this.

And damned if I didn't leave my poetry notebook down in the piano room- now whoever finds it will be thinking I'm manic-depressive. How fun.

But what haunts me is the certainty that it was a long time coming.

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