I feel him through my bones like the way the whiskey made me feel okay again

slowly, then all at once.


I could see his hands on the ******* of another woman and his eyes wanting her like the way I cried and yelled his name alone on my bed

passionately, and undiluted


I saw his face smiling at my stories and jokes like the way the words "I love you" fell out of his mouth

forced, and heartbreakingly austere


I stopped crying over him like the way I finished the painting on my easel

I never did.