I want to write something happy for once,
anything uplifting, motivational, cathartic,
but my creativity has been stonewalled by your absence.
So habitual is my turning around to tell you something—
a joke, an anecdote about my day, or just another compliment—
that it catches me off guard every time
when I turn around and you are not there.
My phone is so silent these days,
I sometimes check to make sure the sound is on
(it always is, of course),
and I am reminded of this despondent reality I now populate.
It’s just so tiring obsessing over the same thoughts every day,
replaying memories in my head like a video on loop
and poring over each detail, as if somehow
ruminating on it long enough will allow me to change the past,
so that I say something different
to make you stay with me.
Even worse, I cannot write a single word about anything else,
and if I had an audience they would be booing me
because I have devolved into a one-trick pony;
but this life really just sucks, and
the worst part is that a part of me hopes you feel the same way.