Moving on (or at least pretending)

I didn't dream about you last night.
It's the first time since you left that I've spent the night without you.
I didn't sleep at all.

I spent some time with your best friend,
she said she doesn't know why you stopped loving me,
she said that I made you happy, it must have been the distance.
I still blame myself.

I burned the picture of you that I kept in my wallet.
I thought it would help,
but it just singed my hand and reminded me that I can't let go of you no matter how bad it hurts.
I still see you when I close my eyes, anyways.