Honestly, I don't think I want to even write this poem.
Because as soon as I begin, I will fall for you all over again.
It's ironic how much I loved you when I didn't love myself.
I feel like all the words, all the phrases, everything you said,
It was all a sick joke.
Loving you felt good, and when I believed you loved me too, I felt okay.
But now I portray that I am okay,
Leaving spaces in the lines I say,
Hoping you can read between them.
Loving you was like breathing after drowning for your whole life,
Loving you was like living up to be what I wanted.
But now, since you left, I can't seem to even think,
I get up and write about you,
I isolate myself from everyone hoping they won't see me when I let my guard down.
I don't even let my dogs in my room because they can tell when I'm sad.
And I'm always sad.
I can't eat,
I can't sleep,
I can't even begin to type what I want to say to you on the phone.
And if I do, I delete it all, careful not to press send because I would just die even more inside if you ever saw what I felt.
I won't lie... I miss you with every inch of my heart.
And it hurts.