This Christmas I have been alone
All by myself
In a new city
With no one near.
All my friends visiting their own family,
And my own 2000 miles away.
I am proud to have made it through the day, and year.
Even though all day I have missed you.
Wished you were here with me.
Even if I could only message you,
Even if I could only be happy you were with someone else.
Even if I just knew you were still breathing.
Would be better than this.
In my head I wonder if all the ache is worth it.
We did not date.
We were not together long.
And yet the moments we shared live infinitely in my mind,
On replay.
Maybe it is a “trauma bond” as I have googled.
Or maybe it is simply that my soul was comfortable with you.
You understood my depression and suicidal desires at the same time as loving me for being successful.
You did not shame me.
You did not make me try to explain why this and why that.
We basked in the shared understanding.
And maybe I was a fool to believe you.
To believe you would stay.
And maybe it was an accident.
It seems almost all my poems end in this now.
If you can even call them poems.