How do you quantify the faces you won't see again?
A disappearing act gets difficult once it becomes a trend.
I meant every promise at the moment it was said,
but there's no one who is easier to lie to than a friend.
After all this absence, I cannot not fight the insistence
of tired eyes that constantly confuse safety and distance.
I created a false comfort by coveting the empty space.
I didn’t burn my bridges— they collapsed under their own weight.
and it eats at me on lonely nights, waking dreams that never end.
I pretend to make amends with shadows sleeping in my bed.
I'm still having trouble with the truth, and so I struggle
knowing that I dug my own grave- safe inside the rubble.
This poem was written for the SteemitPoetryContent #11, hosted by 