It'd be foolish to say I don't miss you anymore

How does it feel?
Having your heart being ripped out from your chest....then trying to put it back in with no prevail?
Does it sting?
Do you feel a thing?

I'm a molten mess
Of emotion
Flowing in
My core.
I'm girthed
With waves
Of passion
That heat up
When you're near.
My skin quakes
With your breath,
I'll orbit til
We finally touch,
Erupting
In cold sweat.

Death beckons us all
It is like change
Always present
Always a little frightening
Sometimes sad
A little threatening
Whomever you think your Maker is
Death will direct your soul to him/her/it
Whether you think you ascend to the heavens or
Become nutrient for trees
Each abiding just waiting
Life a living
Too much to bear
Too little sometimes
Through it all, I’ll hold your hand
I’ll be there
I’ll hold your hand
I’ll hold your hand