Cry-ish

I feel cry-ish, very cry-ish. Cry-ish cry-ish cry-ish.
It's night. It's night. It's night. And it's dark. I'm not afraid. But I'm sad.
Hug.

Need a hug. Again.
Need a kiss, a goodnight joke. Damn memory, damn the falseness of it all.

Damn it for being lovely.
It was lovely.

Sad.

Sad sad sad. .....

Until I looked out the window.

Laying on her bed is a lady who looks to be 25. The light is on, so you can see right in, but no one can see but me.
She sees me too.
I walk by, glance, pretend I don't notice. I sneak up, and bring my silver balloon. I hide and tie it so it goes floating up, wondering if she can see it. Something pretty to look at. She looks bored.