You left little shards of a slow death just under my skin. I feel them scrape against me at night when I wake up without you, I feel them trying to scratch their way out in the mornings when I don’t hear your voice telling me good morning, I feel them in the middle of the day screaming out from the empty places you left me with.
They never stop. I feel you everywhere, piece by piece, broken so jagged it cuts me with every turn. But I keep those pieces, deadly as they are, so close to me like you once promised to never leave my side, hands held tight, sealed with a kiss, eyes locked as though the moment was worth more than just words. I keep them. I always will. How could I not?