Sometimes it feels like you’ve been gone for a minute.
Sometimes 8 months to a year.
Sometimes it’s like you never left.
Sometimes it feels like you're still here.
If I listen real hard I swear I hear you crying,
Which sucks, but I won’t say that I’m dying.
It’s not killing me that you're not here with me every day.
It doesn't break me to know I’m alone, and I’ll stay that way.
My world is not crushed and the sky is not falling.
I’m not struggling to wake up every day, barely moving; crawling.
I don’t want to die without you, I won't cast myself into the fire.
I'm not staring into the abyss, my emotional state is nowhere near dire.
There’s nothing about it that wounds me irreparably or really hurts so bad,
But, my dear, I won't lie to you:
I’m really fucking sad.
I haven’t deleted a single picture,
You still smile up from inside my wallet.
I memorized your number a long long time ago,
And I haven’t even tried to call it.
I am the one who let you go,
Or… I thought I did, but I guess I don’t really know.
You’re gone, but there’s so much of you with me,
Like that map of the stars hanging on my wall; of the sky on our first date.
Or that video that makes me smile every time; the sheer amount of tiramisu you ate.
Fifty-two cards with fifty-two reasons,
Pictures of you and me through every one of the seasons.
I don’t know if you’ll ever see this,
I don't know if I care.
It’s sorta melodramatic,
So maybe you’d just wince and stare.
Maybe you’d get upset to read this,
Because really? How do I dare?
I shouldn’t get to be torn up,
I shouldn’t get to care.
I’m the one who ended us, after all,
The one who chose here, while you’re still there.
I don’t miss you with every single breath,
Just… most of them, I guess.
I promise I'm alright,
I just miss you next to me at night.
I miss you a lot but it’s really not so bad:
I’m just really fucking sad.
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United States • 24 years old