I’ll bet they’ll have told you it’s not going to kill you:
Missing him. You’ll forget all of that, and the pain
Will be numbed by other things; the wind and the rain
Will wash your windows and new worries will fill you.
And this throbbing thirst: this miserable drought that won’t
Lose you, will come to an end like that sweet thought
Of all the time that you gave me and how it ought
Not writhe and reach and scream as it does but you don’t.
Why then, did you come here if it all had to end?
And what was that love, if you never loved me?
Did you make me better to destroy me again?
That’s what you did: upped and left me so I must fend
For myself in this emptiness: You let me see
You so I let you in and you said goodbye then…
(Rubén Bonifaz Nuño)