The night you left, I almost went crazy. I almost peeled away every layer of midnight just searching for something to howl at. I am slowly learning that the moon isn’t tattooed to the sky. I am slowly learning that she won’t always be there when I need her the most. Every day, people hand me broken glass, and I kiss it hard and long because it is the only thing that hurts the way loving you did. What I mean is you were a mosaic of everyone you broke, and I didn’t know how to stop touching you even when I cut my fingers on the people you loved before me. I wish I could say I was getting better. But some days I still throw bottles across the room and sleep in the mess for hours. It is the closest I can come to your hands. It is the closest I can come to what it felt like when you held me.