I have a bad feeling and
self medicating only works for hours at a time
when last week you wouldn't leave my arms
and this week I can't remember your face
and when was the last time we communicated
for more than just minutes at a time
where warm bodies once resided only shadows now remain
while I sit and write this letter for the hundredth time on paper and my demons won't give me rest cause my heart feels half empty without you breathing in my chest
these winter nights are coldly griping at my soul and my stomachs so full of knots I can barely stand for the pain while ghosts of memories mock my ever downward gaze