Four Walls

there’s four walls
and we’re miles away.

Discomfort settles
the moment I walk in.

How did it become this?
It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

Three months tops—
that’s what we said.

But we were foolish.
Immature.
Blind to the slow leak
happening right in front of us.

Bad decisions stacked quietly.
Impulse took the driver’s seat
and we just sat there
watching the wreck happen in real time.

We became passengers
in our own lives—
characters in someone else’s story
when we used to be the authors.

there’s four walls
and miles of disconnect
between you and me.

We both feel it—
the discomfort,
the resentment.

Frustrated with each other.
With ourselves.
With everyone else.

I hate walking in
and seeing his face.
Same chair.
Same blank stare.

I dread when she’s home.
Always something sharp
waiting in her mouth.

There’s four walls
made of despair,
criticism,
gossip,
intrusion,
and the kind of silence
that never feels peaceful.

There’s four walls
and I don’t want
to be inside them anymore.