what they never notice

The stale feel of pillows after a rough night's sleep.
The clothes that are in the dresser, like a sea of shadows.

Red, swollen eyes after a long hot shower.
The random objects on the bed in a lump, human shape.

Lights that always stay on because of what lurks in the darkness.

How there is always a book in sight to keep out reality,
And the blaring music that pushes away all thoughts.

How only the loud phone keeps me awake,
Or the body curled in a fetal position of protection.

The way the cat runs away from my presence.

The shadows in every corner of the empty room.
Mirrors everywhere you look to feel more human.

Frail porcelain dolls that see everything, especially you.
How the eyes of the drawings show the emotional truth.

Posters, to cover blank walls, that cause random thoughts of fiction.
The single soft blue pillow buried between tightened arms, so sleep will finally come