The most trying times are when I am alone,
laying on my bed hearing my thoughts take form.
I find some relief in old fantasies,
the ones where you are still beside me.
I miss the conversations at two in the morning,
the ones that usually ended with heavy breathing and sometimes snoring.
Now, I lay here broken and torn,
looking over our past messages that are still stored in this phone.
Sometimes I wonder if the things you said were true.
How much feeling did they hold or were they just being overused?
My biggest fear will always be
the possibility that you might not have actually loved me.