Betty

by Moody Creek

I miss Cranium and the way we shared clothes and
that time at the beach when you pierced your nose
and what your mom said when you called to let her know.

I miss the 15 hour plane ride, maybe it was even more
and I miss eating carbonara by the Greek shore
singing Wicked, waking up the people next door.

I remember when you introduced us and at first it was fun
but somewhere between introductions and wedding plans I was done
and now I’m the one with a song left unsung.

You get to move on with a conversation left unsaid
and I get to deal with the feeling of being misled
and this extra loneliness built up in my head.

Or maybe it’s my heart.

And even though I told myself I would never go through,
that I would die a hundred times before it became something I would do
I can’t help but to admit that I do miss you.

Even if it’s just a little.

And even though we both are responsible
for hurt words that now seems it was so resolvable
what hurts the most is I know you don’t miss me in the
slightest
way
possible.

###

Melody Creek resides in East Tennessee where you can often find her writing poetry, reading thrillers, and making art. She has been published in Snapdragon Journal, Cajun Mutt Press, NY Literary Magazine, and more. Follow her on Facebook and check out her book “Anxiety, Depression, and Other Sorts of Trauma” on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.