i miss people who are still alive,
and i don’t know what that means.

one sits next to me in class,
another a row behind me,
and one living in another state.
they all feel equally far.

the door didn’t slam,
they just stopped knocking,
while i keep mine open,
just in case they remembered where i live.

i see their faces in pictures
and flinch like it’s a memory.
they look happy.
they look happier than when they were with me.

maybe i’m too easy to forget,
or too hard to keep.
i can’t determine
if i’m too much or too little.

they laugh with other people,
not cruelly—just without me.
and i tell myself that’s okay,
but i still search for my name in their smile.

i miss people who are still alive,
and it feels like i’m mourning
something everyone else insists is fine.
i suffer in a silence only i can hear.

i know what absence is,
it’s in the spaces
they used to fill
without even trying.