With a pen and paper,
I undertake the no named tug
that lures me
to recount the memories.

The thoughts are
entangled with my blood.
I feel them gushing through
every nerve and vein.

They are gritting under my skin,
risking to collapse my entire self.
I don’t know how to
make it stop.

All I can relive are late nights,
forsaken in my bed
reminiscing about you.
If you were here.

These moments seep through
my skin like a leaky faucet.
The act of forgetting
is simply necrosis.

My stomach has become a valley,
empty but for the stones that crash.
Shards lay everywhere
and it has pierced my essence.

Dear one, what am I to do?
Am I to extinguish my flame to
stop the misery?
Bruises are forming everywhere.