You can’t have your cake and keep it
But you can fall into a cesspool and come out clean
Similar to a bull stuck in a gate
But not quite

I miss you
I miss the way you never leave the tip empty-handed
Like the saying goes

You spoke about your grief
I knew it was there but we never spoke about it before
I get tired, sometimes, of explaining
That I can tell you are low even though you don’t say it out loud

Sometimes there is no getting over it
I know this, and people tell you I know this
But you never see that I know this

Like that night I witnessed a fight
The street filled with noise and anger
But my description was not sufficient
And you walked around the houses to find out what happened

There always seems to be a gap
I try to fill
And you always empty