The Last Thing

Am I supposed to sit here?

And pretend that I don’t notice?

Pretend that I don’t care?

As if I’m only good for a joke?

I count the passing hours

I make note of the days

Which escape me

And add up

Into months

Years will slip by

Before I

Tell you that I have noticed

That I’ve been wondering

If you care

If you have ever thought

Of me

When I have thought

Of you

Hardly able to relax

Falling fast

Asleep

It is hard to keep

My eyes closed

When I am robbed of days

Of sunlight

Of peace of mind

I have given into nights

Knowing that the silence

Is the last thing

I want to hear