You made me promise
that I wouldn't fall apart
when you were gone.
You made me promise
to eat when I needed to,
to draw like I always did,
and not to cry too much.
But the spiderweb cracks
only lead to shattering
far worse than a simple break.
I guess I broke my promise
because I can't breathe
without your scent in my lungs.
I know I promised to stay whole,
but this is one promise
that I cannot keep.
"Pinky swear that when I'm gone, you'll take care of yourself."