There’s nothing left for me to say about you

There’s nothing left for me to write but still I do

It’s all I do

I try to act like I’m composed

I’m struggling on my own

I try to act like I am bold

I’m terrified of growing old

I try to act like you care

I know you don’t

It’s been too long

What do you both talk about?

I’d love to know

I really would

Do you draw portraits of him now?

Magnificent

Makes him proud

Do you lie and say “you’re the only one I’ve ever loved,”

That was me once

So stay where you are

Amazed I’ve come this far

Though if I saw your face again

The world would know how hard I pretend to feel ok

You cannot relate

You just ran away

An architect who escapes the very home they made

But I still dream of you

I wander the world subdued

Never knowing what I’d do when it’s finally my cue

Oh baby what I would do to stop dreaming of you

My moment will come someday

For now I’m stuck in this play

Though there’s never a stage

It’s only in my brain

The only place I’ve seen you for over three hundred days

But art will never die

I’ll find you in the field with the table and light

Is it your world or mine?

You took it from me

So here’s to you

“A Series of Mostly Nothing”