Once, when I considered living without you,
I thought I could hear the distant crack of my tin-like, delicate heart.
I'm living without you - you're not the buoy in my sea of doubt, anxiety and worries, calming the waves or lifting your hand to wave.
You haven't been here for a while.
I'm still here. Floating in starfish motion,
palms and lips exposed to the sun that tenderly plants kisses on my skin.