You tell me not to cry
And I try not to

But because you’re the kind of person
Who wouldn't want me to
I cry all the harder.

I try to be strong,
And act like it’s alright

But it isn't

And then the blackness creeps into your bones
And there is nothing left but your pain and a shadow of yourself
I would love to romanticize it, and somehow make it meaningful

But it isn't

It’s ugly, and it’s all-encompassing and it’s final.
Though we never did get

that final


goodbye.

At first there was only silence

And I will not call it peaceful, or calming, or even remotely comfortable
There was only empty space beside me, And this hollow pit growing in my stomach

But let me make this clear, even then, I didn't want you back.
I wanted me back. I was just waiting for my return.

Roger was a jolly man
But he stole my heart from me

I never could abide a thief
Now cross and bones he’ll be.

He dreams of Utopia. But Utopia does not dream of him.
Poor naive boy, some would say.
Why believe in what does not believe in you?
I do not pity him.
I envy him.
For what a wonderful thing to dream of the impossible
In hopes that one day it will dream of you.