Hello, I hope you're doing fine.
Sometimes I am,
sometimes not so much.
It has a latch
on me.
I'm still not completely free
from you.
There's nothing much I can do.
I'm still healing.
Through reading and writing.
Going back and forth
between old memories and scenes morphed
by my mind;
thinking what if you're still mine?
But that's just unnecessary, right?
Why do I hold on to you so tight
when we're the greatest being alone?
I guess I'm so used to calling you my home.
I'm getting better, really.
I just hope you are too, baby.

-m.b