The Restlessness

I often lay down with restlessness wrapped around my chest, Wild thoughts running continuously when the world sleeps, I keep wondering where are they and what are they doing, Why this stillness is stabbing harder than words. Are they with someone who made them forget about me? Do they find joy in places we used to visit? Are they happy without me? Are they at peace while I am stuck in the limbo of the past? Is forgetting so easy for them, Like brushing dust off their shoulder, Like I was a chapter that they are so desperate to forget? Did I mean nothing that they feel unburdened? Then the cruel guilt rolls in, But now I wonder if I am being selfish feeling this way. For wanting to matter enough to be missed, For wanting the proof that I am not the only one lost.