“I miss you.” thrown around and
sometimes some confusion.
But I really didn’t know how to feel.
I didn’t know how to tell you,
that I wasn’t okay. That
dealing with this wasn’t
something that burying my head
in long novels could
explain to me. And that
when I slept, I had nightmares
of losing you, too.
Sometimes I’d wake up and scream
out their names and my hands would
reach out to grasp absolutely nothing.
But being alone wasn’t something I
had learned to understand.
Even when you left.

And even when you weren’t there,
I’d still tell myself that everything was
okay. But the books run out,
and distractions don’t distract
anymore. Melodies only cover
the quietest of words.