nights like these

I sit here behind closed doors reminiscing about the previous days. Reliving every little moment to see any sign of emotion that could be used as a weapon, the taste of goodbye now turning into stale air and stomach acid. The wet corners of my eyes now becoming dry and hard to move. My fingers only moving hard enough to prove that I care, and every option in my mind being reviewed. Being picked, over-analyzed, and turned into a plan that will change within hours, or minutes even. My outer shell missing the same affection it received previous to this blackout. The sky is massive, I only hope that this headache wouldn't feel that big and that the source was not placed there. There is no sense in this matter, and no logic behind my reasoning. The words that flowed from her lips have me worried, and I can not help but think that maybe she's right.