living is such a painful way to die.
It wasn’t easy to be happy for myself, either
I don’t know if I don’t feel like myself today, or I haven’t felt like myself all the other days
I’ll hold myself up if you can’t
I’ll hold myself close if you won’t
I find metaphors in silly things.
Like the way you always walk ahead of me when we’re together,
Or how you talk about me with your hands deep in your pockets.
I found a poem in realizing that you’ve never heard my answering machine because I pick up every time you call, yet I could recite yours without thought.
I found a song in the way you washed your hands after holding mine,
And I know it sounds silly to hear a melody in coincidence, but I swear to god I felt myself go down that drain with the soap.
I found a metaphor in the way you left without a reason, I could feel the rest of your life seeping through your shoes as you crossed over the doorway.
I wonder if you’ll ever find them too.
I break my heart in all the ways you showed me how.
I feel the emptiness you bring more tangibly than you, and perhaps I was a fool to believe there was a difference