On nights like these
when I feel the absolute singularity of my soul
I sit
and I think
of anything I possibly can
but you-
can't say why exactly,
I don't think of you often,
not explicitly,
but I know that you are always in the deep recesses of my thoughts
lurking
you are no longer who I knew,
you are a concept
not alive but merely subsisting on my former affections-
I don't know who you are today
or why I feel
that even though we belong not at all to each other
I feel responsible
left out
and yet I know
if I were to know
just what you do between the hours of awake and asleep
if I knew what you were seeing in your dreams
I would fall apart
millions of shattered shards of pain
I would rather never see or speak to you again
than to know the truth of your existence without me.