I had been sitting on that bed for the majority of this past year.
There’s a dent from
That time I didn’t move for 168 hours.
I remember those dark circles;
They’re gone.
Faded into the night.
But sometimes when
I look in the mirror,
I can still see the ghost
Of what I was;
a ghost.
I was a ghost of girl
Who sat in bed all day.
She communicated simply
Through dark circles
Beneath those empty eyes,
But all her messages
Failed to send.

Now that ghost
Has gained substance,
A presence.
That ghost has filled
Herself up with feeling,
She had accepted her feelings.
But her feelings do not rule her,
She rules them.
She is in control,
Most of the time,
Except for when she crawls into bed,
She cradles herself as she sits in that dent
That she made last year when
She sat for 168 hours without moving.
She doesn’t move in bed,
She sits,
She stares,
As she is surrounded by the same matter
That made up those circles
That kept failing to send messages.