I lie in the dark on my bed, the one you knew so well. The lava lamp’s on. The blue swirls of color paint the ceiling and the walls. The posters are still crooked without you there to tell me if they’re straight or not. There’s a black light lamp beside my guitar amp. Pink ultraviolet rays scatter along the strings of my favorite Fender. A punk rock song blasts through the speakers on my desk. The wind blows in through the open window, and I watch the leaves move. I’m happy. But I remember the hole you left inside me, the one no one since has even tried to fill.

I miss you. But it doesn’t mean anything, does it?