You're not here…
but I still talk to you.
Not out loud,
not where anyone can hear,
just inside my head—
where you still exist.
I tell you about my day,
about things that reminded me of you,
about how much I wish
you were still here.
And sometimes…
I imagine your replies.
I know how you'd respond,
how you'd laugh,
how you'd tease me
for overthinking too much.
And for a moment…
it feels real again.
But then reality comes back,
and I'm left with silence.