and it gets harder to breathe when the only thing keeping                                                            
me alive is an hallucination of
your fingertips that trace patterns
down my spine
when i awake to find coldness
by my side, embracing me
with its trendils that should have been your
arms. so i heave a sigh as i
try to live with dead weight limbs that
drag me down, and it gets
harder when i search the crowds
for your face, knowing that i'd never
catch the slightest glimpse of my safe haven again
and i try (unsuccessfully) to soothe the stinging
wound of knowing that you left
without saying goodbye.