I Don't Even Play Guitar in This Band

There is no providence in complaining — all of my emptiness in replacing
Now we exist in separate spaces and I’ve been doing what I can to face it
And I miss who I used to be
Before I started losing teeth and dying in my sleep
In the liminal space between acceptance and rhetoric
What I’ve been repeatedly ignoring is getting progressively abhorrent
In the liminal space between unhappy and undying:
I was accepting my despondence — you were unhappy with th silence
Now I’m regrtting all the lost days
Think I’ve forgotten how to find them