Traces of you linger
Scents, Sights, Places; Triggers
I can still taste your sweet breath.
I can still feel the ghost of the butterflies;
The haunting only your face brings.
Whispers of memory.
Tears have worn broken trails
down my face
crashing into the place
the eroded space
of my heaving chest.
Shallow breathing of a
heart, half beating.
The instinct to survive
hanging on by tiny thread.
One more memory
will send me over the edge.
I'm at the ledge,
I'm at the ledge
Toes hanging over.
Just a nudge.
*Just a nudge