She tells you that you were alone.
Static fills your head,
Air drains from your lungs.
She tells you that you were alone,
That you've always been alone.
You've never needed anyone.

You believe her
Because there's no one here.
There's never been anyone here.
Or, at least,
That's what she's told you.

She's written your whole life down in black and white,
Smooth, looping cursive on thick, yellowed parchment,
Wrapped up in soft leather,
and you swear you've met her before
but you've never seen her in your life.

There's a letter on your desk that no one wrote
and no one sent.
Because you've never known anyone,
you've never had anything.
It's not important,
So you burn it all down,
Your head hurts and you think that maybe you’ve forgotten something,
Someone important.

You can’t find it in you to care that the flames have caught in your skirt,
because there’s a warm hand encasing yours,
(Although you cannot see who it belongs to)
And there’s a heart beat in the back of your mind that tells you

You are so, very loved.

You are not forgotten.

You have never been alone.
Not even now.