The sad truth is, no matter how much time passes I keep digging into my skin to find whatever feelings I have buried there a long time ago. I’ve become a surgeon without a cause besides to diagnose a disease that has already killed me. I fear you’ll never leave, that you’ll inhabit every space in my body; that I’ll never gauge you out from the gaps in between my ribs and my teeth and my fingers. Your words have turned to turmoil and now rot away at my bones. I am a shaky building with no foundation. My biggest fear is that I will collapse at any moment, that the next time I am touched I will crumble. Missing you is so tiresome, my eyes hurt and my body aches and my tongue is numb from speaking your name. I turn to rain when you’re around. Please don’t go.