While I stood there-
I swore I saw you sitting, waiting too,
but you had long hair (which would be strange, even for you)-
And when you did passes by I realized that it wasn’t you-
But oh-
did I wish it was you.

It’s too early in the night
for an existential crisis-
yet here we are.

This will be the last time that I ever write about you.

I am not afraid to live- for I have lived.
I am not afraid to die- for I have died.
All I can do- when faced with oblivion,
is stand with my arms outstretched-
and fall.

I was there-
I emoted-
I read-
I tried-
But why-
can't anyone-
acknowledge-
the-
work-
the-
acting-
I-
have-
done-
?