I can name what it’s not:
Not the likes
Not the fame
Not the power
Not the money
Not the knowledge
Not the pleasure
Not anything else
I can name what it is:
Your smile
Your voice
Your laugh
Your jokes
Your warm touch
The feeling of home
The safety and comfort to be
That is what happiness is to me.

The flowers keep wilting,
For they know that you’ve gone.
They sing out their lonely, heartbroken song.

They long for your touch,
Attention,
And care,
Breathing your water,
They thirst for your air.

They live out the days,
In their milky white vase,
Murky water subsiding,
Reflecting your face.

They say pain
makes poetry
so I wondered why
I hadn't been writing
then I remembered
pain is not what I'm feeling
it's what I'm yearning
in all this feeling
of numb

You swore you wouldn’t hurt me,
And I swear the ache in my bones is all your fault.

Or maybe it’s mine?
For giving in too easily,
For giving you too much of my heart.

And you know I’m terrified of drowning,
But this silence is consuming me.
Swelling my lungs.

This keeps happening,
Like the sun sets and the waves crash...
People keep leaving me.