There's things that I don't say
In between kisses
And bowls of ramen noodles
On weeknights

There's a quiet sadness settled behind the couch and on the inside of my ribcage during our twilight marathons
On the weekends

Things left
To hopefully be forgotten under the bleachers at your soccer games
I go to whenever I can

It hangs with your hoodies in my closet
In the pit of my stomach
It's small but I can't stop it
And it takes me out for days at a time

I see you every day
But sometimes I am distant
In a different way

It's been done to me
And I'm sorry I'm doing it to you
I'm trying to phase the disappointment that has nothing to do with you
Out of my life like cycles of the moon...

The stars are ours
And that is true
I've never felt like I do when I'm with you
But I tried to tell you
I don't think
You completely understood
You have never felt
Such a sadness before.
.
.
.
.


"What's wrong?"
"Is something wrong?"
"You would tell me if something was bothering you,

Right?"

...