If I have to ask.

I.

I leave little pieces of myself
between the words,
waiting to see
if you notice.

II.

I tell you about the worlds I enter,
the things that keep me awake,
and wonder
if you ever wonder where I go.

III.

I stopped knocking.
Not because I left,
but because I wanted
to hear your footsteps first.

IV.

There are rooms inside me
I have never shown you.
Their doors are open.
I only wish
you'd wonder what's behind them.

V.

I don't want to teach you
how to miss me.
I want to be missed
before I disappear.