sleep well

Things are different now.

The way we speak,

the way we laugh,

the way we wear our clothes.

I think I feel your heart,

but it's not the one I remember.

You've turned from innocence

to something

dreadful.

And I don't mean you,

but I mean your eyes,

or your hair,

or something inside of you that is not the thing I knew before.

It's just different.

I wonder when they all started making sex jokes.

Or, perhaps, when I started noticing them.

I'm sorry, 

but I've been ripping my brain to shreds.

- S.H.