Do you even see me? Or am i just a figment or your imagination or even my own? Do you even hear me? Or am i just the wind screaming and scraping against the windows and shutters? Do you even feel me? Or am i just the looming weight of your past and mine, and all the guilt in between? Can you even taste me? Or are my lips just the faint sense of familiarity in a cold world. Does my scent sweeten your disposition, or is it just a soft, flowery reminder of the void?

Who am i and who are we,
What is the point and
What even is meant to be?

I was once so sure,
But now i don't know.

I don't know anything,
Especially
What i'm supposed
To be.