He holds my hand
I fall into his hazel eyes.
They look so remorseful
He brings me into his arms,
to tell me it was all a horrible mistake.
I wake up
He not next to me.
He’s not sorry.
He still hasn’t explained
why he disappeared.
We see each other every night.
I studying the details on his hands,
every crease on his face.
I run my fingers through his hair
to verify its authenticity.
Its real, he’s here.
I can feel the warmth
of his body against mine.
I wake up.
As if underwater for hours.
Gasping for breath.
Reaching for my lifesaver.
He’s not here.
He’s not here.
The water fills up my lungs
I try to survive.
Replace the oxygen with pain.
It fuels my body.
Seeps into every cell.
Every micron of my being hurts for him.
He’s not here.