You're still the inspiration behind my poetry even though its been awhile since I could recall the number of days its been since you left.

I still write for you. Hoping that one day you'll come across my melancholy string of words and recognise yourself amongst them.

Hoping that you'll miss the person you were. Miss the person I was.
Hoping that the nostalgia that chills me to the bone, will warm yours instead.

I know that I'm your past, but that's the only place I can bear to live in now.
The present has me dreading my future without you. So there's no way I can look anywhere but back. Do anything but try to run into the memories of your embrace, the memories I treasure.

The truth is: I'm just afraid of being happy without you.