It's 3 am. Again.
I'm wide awake.
There's no reason for you to haunt me
And yet,
the permanent ache residing in my chest
is starting to feel normal.
I've begun to forget
the life I had before this.
I'm hollowed out,
my insides scraped away
by everything and nothing at all.
At night, I reminisce
half-fantasying a life we never lived.
And dully, I remember all the places our bodies met
but never touched.
My thoughts run away from me again.
I think of you. I think of me. I think of us.
No. There was never an us.
Not really.
There was always a space in between,
So we'd never had to feel.
And still, your departure has left me with a wound too deep to ever heal.

Took this shot.
Hit this bowl.
Weren't such a tease.
Lived a little.
Stopped caring about what other girls think of you.
****** me.
Were a stoner.
Embraced your "ratchet-ness".
Stopped acting so emotional.
Stopped over-reacting.
Stopped Being Who You Are.

You might not have said that last one out-loud...
But you might as well have.

I'm sitting here thinking about all of the productive things I could be doing at this time of night, instead of sitting here watching Netflix and writing poetry that you won't ever read. But then I remember that there's nothing productive that I'd want to do without you here.