When someone you love dies,
At once, you recollect all of the memories you made together.
And then, the realization descends upon you,
That none will ever be made again.

You may never know,
Though I think of it often.
Never know the thoughts of you
That swim through my head each day.

You may never know,
Though I'm sure you used to.
For those perfections can
Draw you in with such a vigorous force.

You may never know,
Though your soul truly does.
That underneath the sarcasm,
Is my hatred for you.

Happiness
Followed by hurt,
Then guilt.
All in a fleeting second,
From a fleeting glance.

I love to take trips away from here,
If only for a simple minute.
When I close my eyes, I no longer exist,
I can't be touched,
I'm gone.

I miss the way you walk, with such careful long strides,
I miss your catalogue of laughs and your tireless smile.
I miss our breath combining like tiny wisps of smoke,
I miss your sense of humor, and I miss your sense of style.

All of my frustrations are turning my mind against me,
Creating a world outside of reality, swimming in the confines of my brain.
They are stripping me of my internal organs, and leaving nothing but a
Pile of bones inside a raw satchel of my skin.
An empty shell
Of pure and
Utter confusion:
Loss.
And yet!
I will myself to underestimate the potential of my bones and skin,
To underestimate the power of that reality-less world.
So still my frustrations will turn my mind against me,
But I will not succumb.

Am I restraining my creativity
By pushing my anxieties to the
Back of my mind?

Is my muse
Hiding
In my paranoia?