but **** my wrists are so empty
you made them this way and I am grateful
but I am also addicted to the pain
and I am triggered and dark
and it is late and I'm alone
but I don't have any razors
so I am left clenching my own teeth
BEGGING THAT ONE DAY THIS FEELING GOES AWAY

1)
i finally read that book you recommended. i heard your voice in every line
2)
i left the fossett running last night to cut the silence
3)
i still smell your shampoo on my pillow cases
4)
what's the name of that song we discovered on the radio two nights before you left? i need it right now
5)
acceptance is the act of investing in a space heater to keep me warm at night, when i know your legs could do the trick for free
6)
i saw your little cousin in target last week. i never realized how precisely your smiles match
7)
i left the cd you made me, in its case on the floor of my backseat. nick stepped on it and i felt an earth shattering emptiness, like someone died before i had the chance to say goodbye
8)
actually this all kind of feels like someone died before i had the chance to say goodbye
9)
tonight i caught up with some of your friends at starbucks & only thought of you once. does that mean i'm getting better?
10)
missing you occupies so much of my mind that i forget how to sleep most nights

There’s a strong urgency in *******.
The longing for there to be another human body
pressed up against your own, so much so you envision
it vividly in your mind, painting hundreds of
thousands of scenarios until you find one just right
for your hand,

for your body.

It's not about pleasure, but about that momentary loss of place and time,
a further commitment to your imagination but
to your loneliness as well.