Mourning you is an exhausting ritual performed in silence. 
It starts with memories wrapping around my spine,
pulling vertebrae down with the weight of:
denial, bargaining, anger, depression and acceptance. 

It is performed in a blue bed—
one decorated with tangible nostalgia soaked in your aroma. 
I toss and turn,
crumbling old polaroids and evicting used tissues to the floor.

Leave me alone.
I do not want to grieve recollections anymore.
I am disgusted eating nostalgia for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
I would rather starve than consume bitterness any longer.

Death offers no solace,
so I take to existing in the in-between of sleep and wake—
where you are almost real and
I almost feel alive again.

Featured art: “My Bed” by Tracy Emin.