I keep thinking missing you will get easier.
It doesn't.
If I could give up flowers and all beautiful things
to get you back,
I would do it in a heartbeat.
That is,
if my heart would start beating again.
Until my blunder,
my veins were rivers
and my heart was the ocean,
vast,
thriving,
gently beating with the pull of the tide.
So I thought I was okay,
And I filled the ocean with sand
and cut off the rivers
and all I can do is make sad metaphors
for the pain I feel.
I'm sorry.