The rouge in these cheeks was from sadness,
they said that I would be a pale,
white like I had seen a ghost,
but that made no sense,
like I had become a ghost,
that was more like it,
my friends were ghosts now,
they had been slowly filling in the shadows of this coloring book for quite some time,
and at night,
I wondered if it was okay to say how much I missed them,
because I did,
some days, they frown on all of this,
on me,
and some days, they tell me they know how I feel,
but they do not,
and I do not know the kind of solitude that lines their innards,
and their pain,
and at night, again,
some nights,
I pray for amnesia,
and I long for immortality,
and then I fear my own well wishes
so I pull my white sheet over my arms,
and then my head,
and I turn the other way
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