Talking To Myself

Are you
Bent on making me
Cry?
Do you
Even realize what you do; how you make me
Feel?
God, I doubt you even ever
Hear me.
I could talk to a wall and get
Just as much acknowledgement.
Keeping my mouth open or closed, you couldn’t care
Less.
My chest hurts, but
No one can know but you.
Oblivious would be an understatement,
Perfect would be a lie, but
Quite frankly no one is.
Reality
Sucks, just like how much
Time we’ve left
Unformed.
Very rarely do we really talk, but
We always connect,
Xcept when I lose you.
You’re gone a lot, not here,
Zoning out—its no wonder you don’t realize how much more you mean.