A year of silence, then suddenly "I missed you"
becomes heated, frantic whispers of
"just as friends though, right?"
in blacked out rooms.
Where trembling fingers grasp
shaking legs
and every "is this okay?" is a safe haven
and occasionally an escape.
Sometimes no feelings is easier to stomach
than reality
Because loneliness is a sickness
that can be cured by everyone and no one,
and pretending that every touch
means just a little something more,
might somehow save your life.