I wrote a poem...

I miss you. I miss the way you looked at me when I spoke. Like you were genuinely interested in what came next. You were patient with me and I don't get that very often. You understood me better than I understood myself.  You laughed at my jokes even though you were even funnier. I felt like I could always rely on you. You were my person. Believe it or not I saw you as I constant in my life. The talks we had, the advice you gave, our sad times, tired, funny , weird. You were there for all of that. Part of finding me was finding how you fit in with it all. Then one day all of that changed. You went silent. I saw less and less if you. I became dependent, you distant. I couldn't help but think. If this is the constant I believed in what else is changing? And I'm so afraid of change. It cripples me. I see everything differently now that you aren't there to color my world. It's all bleak and prolonged. I'm trying my best to learn how to be my own support. At the end of the day we're just two people who missed each other's feelings . You have all this going for you and I'm set on messing it up. Selfish. At times I'll hear myself speak and hope that you never get the chance to see the worst in me. But what if this is it? What if I'm counting down all my lasts with you and I don't know it. What if you secretly hate me and I'm too blind to see it. What if I'm not as good as I thought I was or you aren't and this is all I need. I can't help but lay here every night overthinking instead of sleeping and shedding tears over someone that pays me no mind. I should be angry. Meaner. Stronger. Determined. But that's not who I am or how I grieve. I'm a dweller. Mourner. A crier.