drizzling in a ghost town

i'm drifting around someone else's town, someone else's friends, someone else's home. like a ghost. i silently float among your things because you are gone. because you have real life things to do. and i'm wishing i brought a rain jacket, or a jacket of any sort because your town is drizzling and if i soak my sweater i'll have nothing else to wear. i feel foreign, but this is not unusual. this consistency only shows me how foreign i feel, always, even in my own town, even among my own friends, even in my own home. i give the same attention to random people on the street as i do my closest friends. perhaps more. the closest i ever get to giving away this burden is to strangers. less a matter of trust than anonymity. i will remember the people i did not speak to much longer than i will remember anything you ever said. i walked silently next to him, leaving the subway, intimately tied by regret.

but this is not about you.