Room Full of Chairs

It’s a weird time. A time of transition and newness mixed with familiar territory among the unknown.

It’s the pen sitting on the ruffled paper mid-sentence lost in forming the words.

It’s the silence in the middle of the chilly night with nothing but a nightstand beside you.

It’s the tiny, beautiful moments like the color of the sky come quarter to five. The moments that you try so hard to erase the other feelings with.

It’s the clock ticking by ever so swiftly yet the months feel like years.

It’s the puzzle with the missing piece that you keep around for years, although you know the piece is gone forever.

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It’s the feeling of being alone in a room full of chairs.