Every day is an ache. I know this because it eats away at me like the belly of a fly trap.
Slowly and steadily, a soft decay that makes me wither.
I don’t wake up thinking of you,
but I think about you as soon as I get my toes on the ground and my phone in my hand.
Sometimes, I’ll crawl back under the covers and let the curtains unfold. When I’m feeling extra fragile, I’ll hug my too-soft arms around my legs to feel as small as possible.
The sunlight streams in and I think of how perfect it sounded to hear you breathing beside me. Every little speck of dust that passes through the light makes me think of how easy it would be to stop time.
If I could, I’d stay right there.
Looking at you, disheveled in the morning.
I could not stand the idea of loss.
Not yet.
But you, with your chapped lips that were easily softened,
You, with your hands that felt like anchors
You
You
    You—
soft and gentle in the morning, that’s how I wish we could have stayed.
Forever in the shadow of my doorway, with the lights off and the daylight casting us in blue-grey through the curtains.
The door will open and the sunlight will hit your cheeks(right on the patch of freckles below your eyes that I traced endlessly with my thumbs) and I’ll feel it clamp around me like teeth.
You’ll say

“Once more—“

With feeling.

And I’ll melt right into the jaws.