Getting Old

Breakable, fragile little pieces--

Held together in a tight knit row.

Holding on for dear life,

for the sanity I don't even know.

Pull apart these feelings, of intimate despair.

The past has built up these walls, and now i just don't care.

Until I lie awake at night, trying to break insomnia's hold.

I'd love to say I'm getting used to it, but this loneliness is getting old.