Poems I Couldn't Write About You

I keep trying to contain myself in my chest.
My ribcage is still trying to compensate for your absence.
I must be really unhappy.
I hate you.
This therapy has been going on since November.
I realize now I can’t spend my nights dreaming up ways to get you back.
It’s three a.m.
You distance yourself.
Some nights I forget what sleep is.
I’m sad because I used to dream.
I’m so fucking sick of listening to Daughter and crying about you.
I still get sad about everything that happened.
I proceeded to scribble your name all over my notebooks until you bled together.
I don’t understand anything.
Every time my grandma texts me about her cat I fucking scream because I always think shes talking about you.
The name Mary makes me want to throw up.
I threw up again.
I still look at your nudes on my computer.
My Doctor needs to prescribe me stronger medication.
Do you hear the apologies I whisper into my pillow after dark?
I now mention freckles in 99% of my writing.
Everything has been hurting.
This emptiness is numbing me.
I keep disassociating with my body.
How much more weight can I lose until I disappear?
I had sex with my rapist.
I don’t feel like a person anymore.
I wish you were here.
I can’t hold you long enough.
I found the first flowers you ever bought me dead in my closet.
Sometimes I pretend were still together just so I can feel something.
I secretly pick little fights with you just so you’ll touch me when you wrestle around with me.

Please come home.

I love you. I love you. I love you.