Watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Trying to remember what the peace of actual sleep felt like. Counting the seconds between each inhale sounds like small prayer, a scream of please please please don't leave. She's lost weight again and you're doing your best to not panic about it, hoping that by not acknowledging the way death hangs around her shoulders he will spare her, spare you the pain of loss.

Its been two weeks since your ex promised to call you, and you're pretending that all the hope you had doesn't lay at the feet of a silent phone line. There is so much you want to tell her, things you can barely choke out to yourself, like the fact that you are still in love with her, that you're positive if it were anyone, she was the one. The only one who ever made your heart flutter like that, the only person who would understand how terrified you are of being permanently alone.

For now you lay on the cold floor, trying not to let two years of the one who got away strangle you, sipping warm wine and thinking that this was how it smelled the first and last time you trusted someone to touch your bare skin without flinching. You're watching this body on your bed taking shallow breaths, crying because you know that soon enough you will be alone again and she's never coming back.