Almost

my bones yearn for fog and field. for early mornings filled with nothing. I remember how much I abhorred it. now I dream of it. when I stare into space I can almost chase that feeling of belonging. how many years in nothing but stormy seas must I suffer until it feels like I can breath? fog on window. if I look at it and let my eyes drift close.. I almost feel like who I used to be. how can things be so much better and be so empty? like a curse on happiness. hollow.