blank.

i have no words for you.
i want to...
i need to.


But no words are uttered form my chest but small meaningless words that form opinions of schedules.
no
laughter
no
merit
no
connec-
tion.


I miss you.
i miss...
having you

my friend.
my dear.

how can i miss you when you are right there, they ask.
when you are 6, 4, 3 feet away from me,
under my bed,
breathing my air,
nudging my coat i dropped on the floor when i entered because it was unbearably stuffy in that room
unbarably crowded when it was empty and it was just
me.


silence.
si
lence.
the quiet of your keyboard is intolerably loud
reminding me how silent i am
chest burtsing to tell you
tell you
tell you what?
what have i to say but every thing?

and
nothing.
not
a
thing

but i love you
my dear.
my friend.

but how do i say that beside with those same words which are hallow now?
because i do not speak with you
i do not laugh
interact
simply retract

because i think i'm so much less than you,
so much less than our shared friend who is now your best
that you may think so much less of me if i speak of the good,
confusing,
trial in my life now,
that it might remind you of your pain that you've weathered through,
prayer at the helm while you went through a hell
of explainations that explained nothing.

and through all that
you
spoke.
aloud.
to me.

and here i am,
selfish me,
alone,
speaking aloud,
to no one.

i have nothing to say


except
i miss home.