?

Staring here with a not so empty pen, with a mirror throwing it all right back at me,
into my face and into my heart,
but it makes no difference when I don’t know where to start.

Do I talk about you, or my best friend?
Or do I say how much I’m missing everyone else;
the family that I’ve pushed away,
or the few that I’ve held close?
Nobody seems to see the difference in the way my eyes are closed.
I hold them shut against the world and against our f*cked up heads,
just wishing for once I knew what I should have said,
what I should say,
but what difference would it make when you just turn away?