A single line stares back at me.
Crushing in its singularity,
Mirroring the weight of loneliness
Nestled in my chest.
Blue, pink, red,
The color irrelevant.
Miraculous the impact it has.
Another month past.
Another hope lost.
Doubts begin to creep into my mind
Despite desperate attempts to shove them away.
Is it me?
Does the root of this failure
Lie somewhere in this body?
This body that has been trying so hard,
So fucking hard
To bring that wishful double line to light?