If l were braver, I would call you.
Yes, if l were the tiniest bit braver
I’d call you. But not to ask you how
You’re doing. I can already see
That you’re perfectly fine. Perhaps better, even. No, I would call to
Ask you how are things without me.
I’d like to know how it feels like
Not to have me worrying about
Whether everything is going alright,
Not to have me laughing or singing
Along to silly songs on the radio.
I’d like to know what’s like not
To have me to rely on as a friend, before everything else. Not to have
Me to come to when everything else
Is going to waste and you barely
Can pick out your name among
The ashes. And not to have me ready
To do everything it takes to make
You believe in yourself once more.
Perhaps it feels better. Perhaps
It doesn’t. But this doubt is
Keeping me up at night now
And I’d like to know whether you’ve
Had this uncertainty, too.
Because I often wonder how’s life
Without you, but then l almost never
Give myself an answer.
It has come to the point where
I’d rather forget myself than
Not remembering you.