The touch of love

They say dying is an exaggeration to compare to the loss of love, yet my all is ripping and reopening wounds and I can’t save myself from not enough , creating new scars stripping me of all my leftover happiness , interfering with fresh memories and moments ,I don’t know how much more hope I have left…my emotions should never qualify or be the dictator of my day but its the weight that drags, pins me down and destroy me in every possible way.. I’m existing physically but mentally I’m not there, I’m slowly disintegrating death not an emotion, yet its the one expression I managed to wear , my feeling is fleeting, each negative emotion releasing, stabbing on my every action, causing unreasonable unexpected reactions and while this occurs,my mind proceeds to rotate, revisiting , repeating and reliving all while trying to determine my fate then my flesh… it irks me the reminder of intimate events, with all my scratches and scrubs it does not rub off our shared moments, for on my skin i still see you, invisible fingerprints and kisses that are see through , i can feel you on me in the areas your hands have been placed , your fingerprints are yet to fade, with the lines on my body that you have traced, Im alive but not living…my soul has disappeared , yes my heart is still beating , but the melody of the pulse you cannot hear, it’s nit just living and an absence , for your not just a simple thought in my head , I’m existing by grieving your loss which is the equivalent for being dead.