lonely intimacy

i find a bra under the bed

that doesn't belong to you

and it doesn't belong to me

lately you've been gone

so often it feels as if

i live alone.

you haven't been in

our (my) bedroom

for months.

i don't know where you're going

and i don't want to know.

but playing the guessing game is

killing me.

my nerves are strung out,

i lash out at the walls

but i stay silent when you come home

because this pain i feel is a lonely sort of intimacy;

intimacy that i've never felt with you.

we've had our passionate nights,

but i obviously mean nothing to you.

so i'm trying to pretend

that you're not everything to me.

this pain i feel is a

lonely intimacy

and every day you leave again

i dance with the ghosts of my tears

and wait for you to come home.

once we were just girls,

"experimenting" they said

and now i wonder are you

experimenting

with me?

i live alone

in this shell of a heart

that used to be full of you.