This is Not For You.

We could talk it all out,

Ask a million questions,

Re-word and re-state it until we think we understand what we’re saying;

Use a lot of words that disclaim themselves,

And have communicated nothing at all.

It’s not that I’m a stranger to being lonely.

It’s just that I’m not used to being lonely from you.

We can take a walk every week,

Just to stay in touch.

We could plan on planning, rely on a schedule;

Wait for a day and an hour when friendship can happen,

And never plan on being surprised.

It’s not that I’m a stranger to things changing.

It’s just that I’m not used to changing us.

I miss you.

You don’t see me.

Or my tears that drip through the phone call.

But I miss you all the same.

I wish I knew what else to say.

It’s not that I’m a stranger to leaving.

It’s just that I’m not used to leaving us behind.

This is not for you,

The one who thinks it is.

It’s you I’m talking to.

You, the one with the assumption

That we’re okay.

It’s not that I’m a stranger to trying.

It’s just that I’m tired.