I’m writing this for anyone
who feels like I’ve been feeling.

This is for holding back those sobs
that aren’t exactly bursting,
but are just enough;
at the back of your throat,
in the back of your mind
withstanding time.

This is for going on autopilot;
for the laugh only you can recognize
as fake,
because you’ve used it so much
it sounds almost genuine.

For the mindless conversation
that you don’t mean a word of,
that you’ve been through dozens of times before.

This is for the smile.
The little eye roll to add meaning
and personality when you say,
“oh, I’m just fine,”
while in your head
you’re constantly putting together
little rhymes
to try to create the perfect poem
to release this emotion
once and for all.

This is for all the white paper –
blank, daunting and crisp –
because inspiration never comes
when it’s truly needed.

This is for turning to others.
No, not for friendship,
but to fill a hole
that you know you should be able to fill
on your own,
but for some reason
you just can’t.

This is for getting that emotional fix,
“one last time, I swear,”
as you’re subconsciously
planning the next.

This poem is for anyone
who related to any part,
who found some sort of understanding
in these careless words.