I sometimes see you in the seat opposite.
You’re smiling, but I know you’re not.
It must be hard for you to smile,
you know…
being dead and all.
You once asked of what I fear
and I said I didn’t know.
At that moment I wasn’t lying,
I really didn’t
And I guess in many ways I still don’t.
All I really know is this;
when I look to the indentation
upon where you once sat,
I feel alone.
Alone.
It’s a funny word.
I think if anything that’s got more meaning;
a night with empty arms,
and a space left occupying my king-sized bed.
So let me clarify once more;
of what fear is I still don’t know.
But I do understand
what it means to be alone.
Alone.
It’s a funny word.
