I am an aching, trembling mess in the mornings. Tripping over myself, fumbling fingers desperately trying to scoop sugar into my coffee. Grounds beneath my feet, sugar all over my knuckles, dark circles under my eyes to match the shadows hidden inside.
I am a hundred shades of regret drying in the stale air. I am a writhing mass of could have beens, should have beens. I am a wellspring of want bubbling over the edges, scalding the earth around it, staining everything dark. I once believed my heart could house two atriums with two intentions but the darker of the two has pulled away and left something else in its wake.