It’s the sound of the dial tone,
a conversation ended after a one-sided solution.
The voicemail being more familiar to you
than actual words.
It’s the empty feeling that follows
the footsteps walking away from you,
the echo of closing doors remaining
a constant in place of ringing doorbells.
It’s the sensation of tears down your face,
runny nose and sore throat.
Cringing under your covers so not to burden
the strangers down the hall.
It’s the heavy silence of your room,
your indentation in the bed permanent.
having all the blankets bunched up around you
as if they could make you warm again.
It’s the thoughts that roam your head
at every point in the day,
asking when did you let yourself become
an option
when you should have been
a priority.