To admit

Because if I said...
let's change the subject
and talk about the time we met
under the influence
of friends and ambience
when the future was scary
and we saw no further
than tomorrow. And when
we spoke under midnight stars
about things
which didn't matter
but we listened
intently and spoke deeply
about trivialities.
But now all I have
is a room full of things
which matter
hardly-at-all
and the more I look
and scour for memories
the more I find
nothing-much-else
of you and me.
But yet I keep quiet
and get about my day
like the pavement pounders
of inner London
and pretend
for the world
I'm not empty inside.
Because if I admitted
that I miss you
I would cry
and be gone forever.