Everything is lacking at the end of the day; I know I'm not happy.
Knowing isn't news so- it can't be that bad, right?
I can keep myself busy and forget... mostly.
Small things still make me feel, softness on my feet
encompassing smells, feelings of accomplishment,
but then when I am alone those all fall away,

and I'm not happy and you can't handle that...

I am alone now and this house is big without bodies pressed,
without bodies giggling or whispering too late at night.
I have come to miss them and your substance.
I don't have anyone for that I must care.
So, there is no one I have to be strong for here,
only myself
and me
and I,
and I am one person, there aren't any alter egos here.
and I am not strong without responsibility.

And I am not happy and you can't handle that.
 
Perhaps I'd be more suited to this solitary living if I was someone else, someone more like you.
And perhaps if you knew, truly- you'd break like I do
and make my shattered pieces fit right, and back to being whole.
But I don't tell, I won't, this isn't new
Your presence has always been missed
this- new emptiness
just adds to
the lack of,
and I L-O-V-E... you
But I don't want to tell
because nothing changes,
it can't and I know.

But still, I am not happy
and I don't think that you can handle that.