"She used to ask me all the time if I was okay. As though she never knew for sure. She would ask me when she was tired or frustrated or when she felt helpless. She would ask me when she was afraid. She asked me that same question, long after we stopped being lovers–when we became something less yet somehow more.
Are you okay? She would whisper on the phone late at night, when she was about to head to bed. Are you okay?
She hasn't asked me in years, but I know she still thinks it. I know the question still reverberates in her mind like a broken record and she will keep looking for answers long after there is nothing left to appease her.
It was always the same question, over and over again. Like the start of a procession. And it took me years to recognize the unsaid words that marched silently behind.
Are you okay; because I love you.
Are you okay; because I need you.
Are you okay; because I don’t know how to live without you."
Are you okay; because I need you.
Are you okay; because I don’t know how to live without you."
Sometimes absence is at it takes to let that person miss you. But I can't get myself to leave you. I just can't.
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