fingers locked together, but something feels different. looking over and thinking, "oh."

*because the hand connected to mine isn't yours anymore.

i'm waiting for my fingers to forget how they felt laced with yours, and my palms to forget the warmth of you against them.

it's been 34 days and i've forgotten the feel of your lips on mine, as well as bits of our very last conversation.

*and i'm really not sure if that's a relief or a tragedy.

please understand.

it isn't that i don't trust you.

it's just, i've been hurt so much and i hold so many things inside my chest, things that i have no idea how to let out of my shut throat.

and i am so very, very afraid sometimes, so very, achingly lonely inside of myself.

please show me how to open up.

and my smile has come leaping back.

you are my smile.

you make me as happy as cats.

i.  am. not. strong.* i am paper-thin skin, ripped and torn, floating in the ocean with salt scorching the wounds. red ink pours into the water, and i am trapped in a circle of great whites, smelling the innocent blood and ready to feast.

i'm not strong. i'm scared.

why don't you realize that it doesn't matter to me how much light is in this world? it doesn't matter that stars dance in the sky or that the sun shines down or that there are a million different colors here. it doesn't matter that the moon reflects off the water, rippling along the surface and softening everything. none of it matters because you are not here to share it with me. it doesn't matter what all the world has in it if you aren't here to hold my hand and walk with me.

everything we made together kept breaking, and now i think it was a sign.