More Than Razors and Empty Stomachs

Self harm can be a hunger,
razor blades on skin.
Bruises and sleepless nights
and blood and tears.

It can also be sitcoms, and all our favorite movies.
Your perfume I still spray on my pillow to hold.
Keeping your books within reach, 
reading the inscriptions.

It can be eating bolognese, 
yours was my favorite. 

Or countless written words and spilled ink.
Clutching onto the softness of plush toys and small animals.

Drinking your favorite tea,
out of the mug with your initial on it.

All the songs I swear were written
with you in mind, just playing on repeat.
Finding you in every new song. 

Birthday cards and letters you’ve sent, 
still framed on my dresser.

Gifted jewelry I will never get rid of.
The feeling of the gold chain resting on my neck.

Thoughts of you.
Dreams of you. 

Pictures of you. Videos, too. 
Why did I take so many? 
Thank god I took so many.

Is this self harm?
Is it healing?
Is it grieving?

It all feels the same

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