When I write to you,
I imagine you are laying in my bed
reading over my shoulder
I think that maybe you would be
sad to know how hard my life can be
You would rub my arm
Proclaiming "How dare she talk to you like that"
Or "You're better than that new boy"
Sometimes you apologize for hurting me
Or sit in silent solidarity for the hole in my chest  
Today I watched the you that is never actually here
count my veins and arteries perfectly arranged on the floor
Turned to me "Why do you hate me?"
I told you I could never
You hold the vein that belongs in my hip
"This is where you loved me, where my thumb fits,
where I held you"
The vein is empty
I ask what you expected, you left me months ago
Your eyes make me want to apologize
I ask if you still love me
But, you are always gone before I get an answer