I wake up and see you.
I go to sleep. And see you.
I pick up my phone and see you.

I see - salty water marks on my pillows,
a heaving chest expanding and contracting with a tremble, and
I see a gray haze covering the surfaces I no longer wish to touch.
I see somber flowers and I see candles that struggle to give off light even in the dullest of days.

I see until the pain creeps back in and reclaims my clear eyes once again.