To Miss

I should be
feeling something.
She may leave,
she already left,
and I spent
so much
of my time with her,
but my eyes
are dry
as a desert.
.
At her leaving,
others around me
hugged
and professed
their heavy emotions…
I try to make a show
to fit in,
to not be
callous,
but I don’t care
really.
.
Are the other people
also acting
a script
they think
they need to perform?
I know I have felt
great emotion before
on behalf
of someone
other than myself,
but now
I can’t seem
to muster it.
.
People
who have known each other
for but a few short weeks
make professions of love
to each other,
but I can’t do it.
I’m the sandy dry eye in the room,
the attempted feigner of emotion,
who couldn’t muster enough affection
in a few short weeks
to feel normal,
or miss
her
when she is gone.

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