I have found
that the most heartbreaking thing
is an unknown
last kiss.

chapped lips
locked up,
will no longer be the story tellers
carrying me to sleep
on drunk nights.

no more twig arms
keeping me close.

nor a simple smile,
to be greeted with.

as it did a year ago,
another slit,
with each thought of you.

I hate myself
for missing you.