I loved you
and
I still do

was looking under my bed
for a charger
when i came across
the teddy bear you gave me.
i never even ate the candy
that came with it.
not enough time.
that hurt.

i’ve become
the shape of water.
i mold to rooms
i don’t belong in,
fill cracks
in other people
just to keep from spilling.

no one sees
how close i am
to evaporation.
how heavy i feel
in a glass too full
of silence.

they think
i’m calm
because i don’t make noise,
but grief has no splash
when it sinks like this.

i’ve learned to drown
quietly.

open hello poetry
search your last name
click on your profile
check for new poems
(they’re not common
but they come in floods)
write poems
contemplate the what-ifs
feel immense sadness
(for no reason)
it’s nothing new