There was a time when silence felt softer,
when empty rooms didn’t echo this loud.
Loneliness sat beside me—not a friend,
but someone I understood.

Back then, even shadows felt familiar,
and the quiet knew my name.
I wore my solitude like an old coat—
frayed at the edges, but it fit.

I wasn’t happy, but I was whole
in the hollow spaces I called home.
Now, I drift through noise that feels too thin,
strangers' voices, yet none reach me.

They say I’ve grown, that I’ve moved on,
but I lost the one who knew me best.
And here I am, calling through the blur—

I miss you.

But I guess that doesn’t really matter, does it?