Waking up without him,
in an apartment that still doesn’t
feel like mine has only gotten
harder.
Many of my days begin
with tears or a slight panic attack
just remembering I won’t
get to see him.

I never fell out of love.

He still needs me in the
small ways I need him.

I am a Matryoshka doll.
I carry many different versions
of myself around,
each making appearances
now and then.
I don’t even realize when I transform
until I begin to avoid things
to protect whichever stage I’m in.
Right now I am big, good at deflecting and
putting on a smile with
my mascara.
The small one that’s weaker;
scared
is
deep inside.
Safe.

“I wish I could put you in my pocket.”

And I wish I could fit.