Growing up is not crying while saying goodbye

Waltzing into the bunks, knowing there is a spot 
Where I belong, will never be the same when a lot
Has changed. People I want to see are not there anymore.
They have gone to the moon to hide, the far side
Always in darkness, just beyond my call. The doors are

Locked, and I cannot find the keys conveniently 
In the pouches, where they have always been, next to
A torchlight, a pocket knife, a handful of regrets forgotten
Alongside some food wrapper from months ago. Far
Away, just outside the windows, I watch the room
Overgrown with neglect, the dust that comes quietly

To claim everything that is important, daring, now that 
There is no watchful eye, guardian angel, someone,
Anyone. People are all close by but out of reach, 
30 lunar orbits away, and this is a journey I barely begun.
Every round a punishment for the times I forgot to cry and 
It is too late to start now. I am overwhelmed with 
Grief young people only know of,

Superficial as the paper of onion skin and the onion tears
And the casual bubbles at our lips: if only there was
More time. More nights, unmoved in suspension, specimen
From a time I have not yet learnt to fear
The departure, the leaving that is so sudden

I am in pain and at loss.