I've still kept those letters, Folded deep where shadows play. I read them like a prayer, hoping the words might change. I don't really miss you- Maybe just the way we were, I miss the way the world felt smaller when it fit inside your laugh. I search in every stranger, For the comfort that you gave, A ghost of warmth I cling to, A habit I can't shake. Now I hand strangers pieces of my silence, hoping one will know how to hold it, without asking questions.