The lump in my throat hurts so much it does not anymore.
Sometimes you stand between me and reality, and all I see is a windowpane stained with the dirt of fear and regret. And I cannot see anything else, or I forget if I do. And if I try to touch the glass I can feel the breaks in it, cutting my fingertips yet I don't feel anything. That is the problem.

In those moments time goes by fast, and minutes slip between my eyelids until I realize that I've gone blank, and there you are again. In my throat. Clinging to me.

I wonder if I will ever be able to raise my head and look up without hitting my head with the wooden lid.

A catch in my throat.
Choke.
Torn into pieces.
I won't.
No.
I don't want to be this.
I won't let this build up inside of me.

Why is it that I can only cry for you in my dreams?
I whimper. I sigh. I feel this knot in my throat. But it's only in my dreams where I cry, and when I wake up I still have these dry eyes of mine.

It's strange how I can recall every single detail, more details each day that passes by. Every one of them. The acanthus in the hall, the golden light in my room, the feeling of the sofa. The taste of your food. The things I've been unable to eat since you're gone. Your laughter, your call every night. The smell of your cigarettes.

Your presence.

Sometimes it's hard. It's just sometimes. But when it is, it's so hard. So hard...

How can I save you from the things that I've been?
I cannot deny the past is written in my face.

I will not give up.

One breath, one word
may end or may start
a hope in a place
of the lover's heart.