i stopped.

i stopped finding

soft, meaningful poetry

in your footsteps

and the cracked driveways

 

i stopped looking

for you

in crowded rooms

and my coffee’s reflection

 

i stopped asking my friends

if they were happy

they wear dark circles for makeup

and coffee stained t-shirts

 

i stopped living when i was sixteen

i’m looking for reason

no one can tell me where it is

or if it even exists