It's morning. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and when your vision focuses, you notice there's someone in the bed with you. You hope it's that someone you've been dreaming about, that same someone you wish you had the confidence to talk to but it isn't.
It's someone entirely different and you feel your heart sink deep into yourself. You feel the organ that keeps you moving bounce down against your ribs and settle into a place you didn't know you had. I've always known about this place inside you. It's a dark and sad place. A place you make yourself forget about.
You step outside with an ashtray and fill it with cigarettes. You fill your body with smoke in an effort to kill the way your insides feel. You thumb through the contacts in your phone and find her name. You text the person you wish you woke up next to and ask about their morning.
You tell them you had another one of "those nights" and they respond with a laugh. Or at least, you hope they're laughing because you can't really tell through a text message. You never really know where they're at mentally because you realize that a lot gets lost when you only speak to someone through digital words.
You continue to fill the ashtray and the person that was sleeping in your bed walks out and lights one of their own. They start a small conversation and you try to keep up with it as best as you can but you feel that black hole inside you expand as you nod your head up and down. There is an emptiness inside of you. And it will never be filled.