I'm lying in an empty bed that seems to get emptier with every moment I stay lying there. I do not dare get up because I feel lost in my own sheets and so I pass the time by talking to my ceiling. The walls start to sweat and my floorboards form fault lines because every story I've ever told them starts with an "I feel so ******* empty" like an abandoned apartment building that no one wants to live in and ends with an "I don't know if I'll ever stop". Will I ever stop? Sometimes I watch the moonlight pour in through my blinds and it binds my hands together and my lungs start to freeze and I miss you. It's hard for me to look in the mirror now because I don't recognize the eyes staring back. It's hard for me to hold someone now because everything I love is everything I lack. You left, you didn't die. But it feels like a part of me did when you slammed the door and didn't look back. And whenever I look at the cracks in my ceiling I remember how you told me you wanted to fix mine. I hear the sounds of distant car engines and I still feel the walls sweating and I miss you I miss you I really do miss you. I'm all alone and this doesn't feel like home and maybe it never was but maybe you were. I guess maybe you might not have been. There.