I lay awake in a bed that is all too familiar to me
It has formed to fit me, knows my every curve, every indentation of my body
I feel the warm sheets against my cold feet and there's a comfort there
My head rests against a pillow that has felt the heaviness of my head and the wetness of my tears
I lay on my back looking up into the darkness of a room that I don't really mind right now, at this moment
I place my hand on my stomach and feel what will fade with time
I trace the lines with my fingers and a part of me wishes this place wasn't significant
Untouched by pain and sadness, unharmed from my own self
I lay here for a while tracing, not thinking, just feeling
The lines I touch are rough, and they now feel like something meant to be there
They all mean the same thing; they've found their way on me once again
They are all familiar and I ask myself if this is what I want
Theres something in these lines that screams the truth
The truth of something, the truth of nothing
I lay like this for a while
My back against the mattress, my head against the pillow, my feet curled under the covers
And my hand tracing, just tracing.
I fall asleep this way and in the morning Ill forget that this is how I finished the day
I'll forget until I go to lay down, my back against the mattress, my head against the pillow, my feet curled under the covers,
And my hand tracing, just tracing.
