I want so badly to ask if you're okay, but I know the answer.

You're not. Because I'm not.

You texted me at midnight last night.

"I miss you." 

You're not okay. 

But I know you need to pretend to be strong and you don't like showing me the cracks, for fear that it'll hurt me or open up the wounds even further, for us both. But I'm already hurt, my love... and I don't need to ask if you're okay to know how much this hurts.