We don’t talk anymore, but I do miss you.

I look behind me, and the soft blur steadies slowly, squinted my eyes a few more times and I now see clearly. It’s a broken bridge, there’s a hollow gap, a deep emptiness that separates us. We used to share intimate little spaces, strange but familiar darkness, and the perfect amount of comfortable silence.

I used to fill your cracks with these tiny flowers that grow in my mouth, and you use to fill mine with warm fuzzy stars out of your pocket. I wonder if I left cold spots when I left your bed, I wonder what you use to fill them with. I wonder if my name shoots arrows in your delicate chest when it’s mentioned. It haunts me, consumes me, not knowing what you think of me. I’m screaming in whispers when I confront this humdrum fever.

I look at you, and I can’t tell anymore what brings you peace during times of high tides? Where do you surrender your tired hands? Why do you play those songs? I can ask, you can tell, we can talk, but I would not really know the true answers and all that you and I both know, is that we are nothing but the previous pages, just empty husks of all the things that once were there.

We’re just living each of our little lives day by day, in ways we no longer share. It’s not sadly poetic, it’s simply the reality that I chose to create. I don’t’ know, I guess today is just one of those days that I remember you. I remember us.