I can sit here,
cry myself an entire ocean
and sit at the bottom and drown in my own tears,

or I can get

my body
misses you
more than it can handle
the pain of the withdrawal.

put a top coat
on the pain,
perhaps
mattify it,
don't let it
reflect on you.

inadequacy seems
like the only
feeling that
chooses
to stay.

no one's past should
define who they are today,

unless their present
is merely an extension
of the supposedly
dead and buried.

my deepest fear is no longer
a bottomless ocean,
but rather feeling your love
when it was never really there.

I can still feel
your cheeks
pressed against mine,
your eyes locked on mine,
your heart beat as you
lay on my chest,
your hands caressing
my face,
my heart wanting to burst,
except this time
it's because
you are gone.