No one ever said
“This is going to hurt.”
but then no one ever admits these things,
as if claiming pain is a sign of weakness,
we’ve all bought into the mentality that
it’s not so bad when it’s over.
But what if the pain you’re going through
lasts longer than a bee sting?
And what if it chooses to scar, rather to bruise?
Deep in the soft tissues of the heart
an internal breaking that no cast
will ever fit.
Not a day goes by when I don’t miss you,
and I’ve stopped counting the days
because I know now tomorrow doesn’t make anything better.
Tomorrow just means that’s one less set
of wretched 24 hour intervals
pretending it’s okay.
I’m okay, without you.