It still hurts sometimes,
when I see you,
sitting alone in the library,
next to an empty chair
that used to be mine,
but I know
isn’t mine anymore.
It still hurts sometimes,
when I see you,
and you see me too,
and we both sort of force a smile
to show each other
that we’re doing fine,
that we’re not hurting anymore,
even though the hurting never stops,
and the heavy silence reminds us
that there are no more words
meant to be exchanged
between the two of us.
— V.I.P.P.