How did you feel during those months?
Is it anything like I feel now?
Did you lay in bed, dead until the Sun went down?
Did you lay awake at night weeping tears (and maybe liquid crimson out of scarlet marks?)
Did you lose your desire to do what you love?
Did you forget who you were, what you stood for, and what you wanted to do?
Did you have post-traumatic stress, get anxiety and panic attacks when reminded of me?
Did you get angry, and then guilty afterwards, did you miss me, but hate me too?

Did you forget how you learned to love the simple things in life?
The shining sun, the green grass, the birds chirping?

This is really a poem about how I've been.