There's a ghost in my mouth and it talks in my sleep.

It says your name.

And my heart aches for you. Physically aches. I feel like I get punched in the chest whenever I think of you, so I've tried to lessen how frequently I do it. But when I'm sleeping, I wake up to myself saying your name, and my cheeks are wet, and I feel more lonely than I ever have in my life.

And you don't call. And when you do, you tell me you're unhappy, and lonely, and that yeah, sure, you miss me too. But it's not like I miss you, and I'm trying to accept it.

I hoped that leaving would make you realize that I was an island you passed by and shouldn't have. That I was worth exploring. Right after I did, you dated a girl that you said reminded you of me, because of how alone my absence made you feel...and still, you're not steering your boat around.

What should I do when everything that should make me happy makes me stretch my hand out, knowing you should be there to hold it? And then it's there like a slap that you're not, and don't ever intend to be. What do you do when the person who knows your past and your present and your hopes and all the light and the darkness in you doesn't see the simplest and truest thing?

When I say I love you, I mean it. All the way, forever, my one and only, and everyone in the past four years has been stopgaps until you woke up.

Being busy helps me forget. Push away the thoughts that you see and don't want to, that you feel it too but are too scared, that all of this is one-sided and you miss me the way you'd miss any co-patriot of years who moved. Why else would I work two jobs, go to school full-time, and volunteer as much as I do?

"I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
'Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn."