no use in wondering if you saved my letters
or still look at photographs of me and sigh
because at the end of the day
when i’m wrapped up in sheets and blankets
wearing wooly socks and thick leggings and flannel
i’m still cold
and you’re still
so far away
in so many ways
and i miss you, i miss you, i miss you
i miss you
but i can’t tell you
and i won’t tell you
because even if you miss me
like i miss you
i’m the one
who tripped up the stairs
and even if you offered me a hand
(you didn’t, that’s okay)
i couldn’t take it
because i need to clean
the cuts on my knees
and wait for the bruises to fade
on my own
so while it seems that you’re fine now
with taking the stairs two at a time,
i’m still trying
to stand on my feet
and i miss you, i miss you, i miss you
i really freaking miss you
and i’m trying so hard
to be strong