I am always sick to my stomach,
shaking and numb.
Incapable of feeling neither
sadness or love.

I fought through flames thinking I had
emerged unscathed,
Only bearing wounds beneath my surface,
Am I weak or am I brave?

Holding my breath under the covers as I count the moves that led me here,
Holding on to every word you had said,
so close and so dear.

I paint vibrant images in my mind that I cannot replicate on paper,
I am convinced I can do everything on my own now,  
I am my own savior.

My edges have grown so rigid and cold,
and I am too young to feel this old.
Looking out the window tracing my finger over the hills in the distance,
Wondering if one day I'll ever think back and miss this.

The way you ran your hands over the bones in my hips,
Caressing my thighs and biting my lips.
You are gone but never too be forgotten,
I will always have the memory of you to forever get lost in.