Untitled

there is always somebody in the other room
listening beyond the wall.

there is always somebody in the other room
who wonders what you are doing
there without them.

there is always somebody in the other room
who is afraid you feel better being alone.

there is always somebody in the other room
who thinks you are thinking of someone else
or who thinks you don’t care for anybody
except yourself in that other room.

there is always somebody in the other room
who no longer cares for you as much as they used
to.

there is always somebody in the other room
who is angry when you drop something
or who is displeased when you cough.

there is always somebody in the other room pretending
to read a book.

there is always somebody in the other room
talking for hours on the telephone.

there is always somebody in the other room
and you don’t quite remember who it is
and you are surprised when they make a sound
or go down the hall to the bathroom.

but there isn’t always somebody in the other
room because
sometimes there isn’t another room.
and if there isn’t
sometimes there isn’t anybody here at
all.

I miss you, kinda.

I’m thankful for my family, friends, and imaginary boyfriend.