"it’s been months.
get over it.
just ignore the fact he’s there."

but how could i tell them that looking at you makes me,
sick.
it makes me cold, like the winter finally showed,
it makes the tears gather, the chills run through my body.

but how could i tell them that hearing your laugh makes me,
hurt.
it makes me reminisce on nights when i heard it endlessly,
sweaty palms in the fear that you'll hold them,
the thought of caressing your face.


it makes me,
think.

possibly, this is not the time to be doing this
but how could i tell them im not over it.
it makes me,
realize.

im not over you.