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.