Bottled Up

I miss him.

With all of me, I miss him.

Every day I pretend, I fight, I smile…..but I miss him.

His voice, his words, the way he cared for me.  The way he held me in his hands.

I miss him.

I live, I push, I make my way through each day.

I set my alarm, I don’t have to, but I do.

I don’t sleep much anyway, people who know me well have come to understand what that means, but I go to bed, I take my pill, I pull the covers over me, and I try.

When the alarm goes off I am almost glad, I don’t have to fight with sleep anymore.

I get up, I work a bit. and I go work out, this I need, to provide calm and focus.

Then I continue, pushing through…..and every so often the drapes fall, and I just want to collapse under the pile of drapes.

I push, my friends pull…..and I miss him…..and I long to find me.

ttyl…..beth

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