My joints start to hurt. It’s like the reminder of you weighs on old fractures that never quite healed. The places you broke me burn like a cigarette pressed onto skin. When I miss you the world darkens and gets quiet. And I can’t seem to think of anything else but you. I can’t help but push and pull at my skin in the hopes my brain will shift to the slighter pain. The pain of missing you is a far greater burden to bear. And my back is breaking from carrying you around.
Every minute I miss you is a waste of my time. Each second chipping away at a piece of me. When I miss you, I disappear. When I miss you, I’m gone.