Are We Out Of Orbit?

I feel gross. Not the deodorant-has-run-out-and-I-still-have-two-classes-to-go kind, but the my-insides-feel-moldy gross.
The day that you left me behind. When you were taken from us.
The world doesn't seem right anymore. Are we out of orbit? Or is this just too much to bear?
How can I appear so healthy, when I feel diseased?
No body's watching anymore. And I wonder, why they don't see. Why they don't see me. They think everything is fine, and go about their day.
There's nobody to talk to anymore, no one to listen. Everyone's so caught up in their own troubles, to notice each other.
But you were there. You would ask me if I had a boyfriend, and if he was cute.
You used to dance, but married a man with two left feet.
You were such and optimist.
Why did you leave? It wasn't your time. Not yet, not yet.
You should be here, making us laugh once more.
I bet you are thinking we're being silly, the way we're reacting.