Hold my Hand as I’m Lowered by Noah and the Whale

there’s moments where I miss you;
so deeply. Not to where I want to
spend more time with you so much
as just go back to when you were my best friend.
When we were kids,
when we would blow bubbles in
your brother's car. When we would
go for walks, and watch ghost adventures.



I still have the habit of moving my hands down to my sides whenever I sit beside you.



I can so easily be angry at you.
and I am, but it never lasts for very long.
I hate writing about you,
But I could go on forever.

...I hated being your friend,
or atleast being called it.
Just one of your many friends. 

Why didn't you say anything?


Why did you let me feel so
small if you cared so much?
I don't know anymore.


I feel like the ocean is pouring out of my chest;

I need to stop.