Have you ever missed someone so much that your arms feel numb without them there to be held in them? So much that you can see their absence pulsing round your body? So much that you'd give anything to be back in their arms, kissing lazily as the sun makes stars out of the dust particles floating around the air? So much that you've started believing that maybe single beds weren't made for just one person? So much that you're starting to think maybe phantom limb syndrome is the only way you'll be able to feel their touch again? So much that you have to pull over on the side of the road because them not being there is causing a sickness inside of you? So much that missing them is the only feeling inside of your body and so much that it's infecting your chest with a sadness that never feels like it's going to go away?

I miss you more than all of these combined.

There's a fine line between love and lust. He loves me, he loves me not. We were everything you could dream of; summer days and winter nights. He loves me, he loves me not. We were lazy mornings in bed, we were picnics in the afternoon, we were evenings spent watching golden sunsets and we were late night drives listening to old records. He loves me, he loves me not. We were unexpected rainfall and delayed trains. He loved me, he loved me not. We met in the spring, he was the warmth from the sun and I was the April showers that drowned him out. He loved me, I loved him not.

It used to be high fives and summery smiles and (empty) promises and kisses on cheeks and tugging at daisies and now it's you tugging on my heartstrings when you leave; it's bruised knuckles, broken promises and shattered glass and I didn't think it would hurt this much when you left because after all, "everything is temporary and nothing is forever" but now you're gone and it's like you couldn't bare to leave empty handed. You took fragments of skin and bone; everything you wanted from me was the only good I had left and now I'm back to square one and I wish you weren't so ******* selfish.

Loving you is like being lead to our bedroom with a trail of rose petals except the catch is they're all ******* dead and you're still not coming home. It's like looking out of the window in summer expecting to see everything in full bloom but the trees are lifeless and bare and the sky is grey and even the birds aren't singing anymore. It's like stepping outside on a summers day but never being able to feel the heat. It's taking an overdose only to find out all of the pills are placebos. It's waiting by the phone only to miss your call because I thought I saw you walking past the window and I wanted to see you one last time. It's putting your old shirt on only to find it doesn't smell like you anymore and it's pouring yourself a cup of tea only to find there isn't any milk left in the fridge. It's driving to your house only to find you don't live there anymore. It's sleeping on your side of the bed so it's warm when you come home only to wake up without you there. But worst of all, it's the feeling you get when you switch on the lights but are still stranded in the dark.

You stopped telling me you love me when you started telling her how beautiful she looks in that dress. I should have known better than to think our relationship would last longer than a year but I've always been naïve and I guess some things never change. I spent three months convincing myself that you still cared, two months gripping onto fading memories and one month thinking about every "someday" and every "always" but I guess always to you means something totally different than what it is to me. Three months have passed since you stopped telling me you love me and I hope she makes you happy in the ways that I never could. I hope she kisses your forehead and I hope she strokes the side of your hand with her thumb when you're not doing so well. I guess I'm not doing so well, I haven't been feeling okay since you left me three months ago but maybe I was just living on borrowed time and I guess it's finally time to give it back.

I dreamt last night and it was a dream filled with red flowers.
You, pinning me down.
Sweat.
The beach.
Big bodies of water.
Gunshots.
Rivers of blood.
Funerals.
Funeral flowers.

You said that lilies are funeral flowers but I kept dreaming about roses.

You pushed me to the edge and I awoke in a cold sweat and it's like breathing but not getting enough oxygen in and you're drowning and I'm still dreaming about roses.

You kissed me on the cheek and whispered sweet nothings into my ear while we followed the moonlit path through fields and forests and by the time we reached our final destination it was sunrise and I guess I understand now why you say lilies are funeral flowers because they're everywhere now, they're all I can see and you're gone.

You lead me to these lilies and then you left and nothing hurts quite like being alone with your funeral flowers.

Life has had a grip around my neck for so long that I was getting used to feeling so faint and so much like I didn't exist but then you came along and you gave me just enough air to survive and I thought things were finally looking up. You showed me blue skies and cherry blossoms and you taught me to not be afraid of love again and I spent so long wrapped up in the whirlwind of us that I didn't notice when you started pulling away because I was still as in love with you as I was from the start. Winter has never been good for either of us but instead of crashing and burning we fed off of each other and waited it out but Winter will end soon and you will be okay again and as soon as you are okay you won't need me. You will leave in the form of smashed bottles and slammed doors and I will be left to clean up the glass with the echoing sound of nothing, and life will pick me up and throw me against the wall again and I don't know if I can cope without you here for another year.