Why does it hurt so bad again?
Why do I miss him so much?
Why did it touch me when he apologized?
Why do I want to reach out and touch him?

The world is falling apart around me—
nearly literally...
And my tears are for him?
For myself?

If we're not allowed to cry for our own hearts
Then what can we cry for?

The part of me that loved him died.
I shudder from the deepness of the wound.
I feel it from my wrist to my throat.

I really lost myself...
But it felt like finding myself,
and that terrifies me.

My whole life is a series of discovering foundational lies...
That my sense of self was built on shifting sands.