Traversed

I know you hate to be alone,
but you don't lie
you tell me something you almost believe
and tell me you miss me, and
I force a smile for your consideration.
 
 
I'd ask you questions and more -
I'd tell you what you should question,
but I'm lazy, or scared, or grasping at air.
 
 
 
We eat in the dark every night,
guessing with forks, I
suppose we have no appetite with the light on
anymore.
 
 
We once traveled far beyond familiarity
to eventually feel, familiar.
When the wet storms settled and we -
filled ourselves with pasts and futures
we'd journey further, testing the roads length
and drivability.
 
 
The distances are great and dusty;
we've burnt out and almost faded like
your favourite pen years ago.
 
 
I'm sure it still has dregs of ink inside
but I'm not willing to dig it out.