I dont know how to feel about anything right now.
I shouldn’t miss you, but I do.

It’s staring me right in the face, behind every corner I turn, I woke up this morning with a hole in my chest, how it burns, oh it burns. A story left between the lines, the dead air that lies between, muted and unforgiving, watching things die that meant so much. A wounded animal in my open palms, breathing on one last breath of hope. But you’ve buried it deep below, the ground is too bitter frozen, and all the dirt under my fingernails is the only thing I have to show something that was so real.

Silence isn’t the closure some like to think it is.