You are an 8 oz glass that only has 4 oz in it. You believe you're half empty and i see you as half full; either way there is something very obviously missing.
I'm running out of poems and it's turning into broken letters that attempt a backwards goodbye, but no matter what form they're in, my words keep mingling with your lips.
I've always told you i wanted to try role playing, but i never thought it would just be us taking turns missing each other.
The IV's in your arm are wrapping around my brain, pumping it with thoughts of you, but i can't shake the feeling that you're going away soon.
I used to plan my future with you, and now that I'm stuck planning a future that tries to get away from you, it's all turned very bittersweet. The bitter side is missing you and the sweet side is that after everything, I'm still able to miss you. I'll never forget that I'm the only person allowed to touch your hair, and ill never forget that that's probably a lie. I'll never forget that after nearly three years, i still don't know how to make you stay. The last 'i love you' that you managed to regurgitate is still safely tucked away between my teeth- better people have tried to pull it out of me but nothing makes my teeth chatter quite like your coldness does.

The next time you're alone and you think of me, please remember that I won't pick up the phone.