i am not real , but you were

2

I miss you.

And emptiness is the only truth I know.

And loneliness is my true companion.

The cravings I feel for you are so much.

The person I used to be.

Is the only thing I regret.

Leaving.

I am a different being.

A changed soul.

Something bloomed anew in me.

And now I can no longer find you.

Under the years of denial and hope.

You happened.

You were real.

But I am not.

Suicide used to sound like music to my ears.

Now it is foreign, casual.

The times I recount seem like they were just yesterday.

But they were not.

One year, two years.

The person I used to be.

Locked in the hospital I left two years ago.

I have yet to return.

But I can only wonder.

If I were to walk back through those glass doors.

Would you come back to me?

Do you miss me?

Do you remember me?

Or have you consumed a new being?

Have you learned new things?

Have you seen different people?

I am not real.

Without you.

But you are.

A being somehow on its own.

Yet only a thought.

Is more real than.

A breathing human.

A soulless suicide.

I am not real.

But you were.