It’s the least comforting,
To know I’m almost seventeen
Twelve days,
That’s all that’s left
Twelve days,
Knowing you won’t show
Another year,
Knowing you could’ve been there if you had spoken up
Four years,
Seven months
That’s how long I’ve been without your voice,
Without your guidance
I’ve changed the way I used to cope
Not that I really knew how to in the first place
Not heavy on the tears,
But heavier on the night terrors
Random moments where I lash out
Its always been under my skin,
You’ve always been under my skin
Grief is that of a curse and I forever have a life full of it,
We’re always told that it’ll get better
Or that whatever wound we have will heal on its own,
But notice how you’ll never know how close you are to that point
Maybe you’ll know you’ve made it by the way the topic that bothered you so,
Is no more
Ask me anything about my situation and I’ll tell you flat out
There’s nothing to it,
But I’m not over it.
It doesn’t make sense
How is it that talking about it,
Knowing what I know,
Seem like a regular conversation
Maybe it is a regular conversation,
One I have with myself too often
Maybe this year won’t be so bad,
Maybe you’ll be there
