Tomorrow I will miss you again

Tomorrow I will wake up with a splitting headache and
Your blushing face burned into my mind and I see it like black spots
When I stood up too fast to brush my teeth. Tomorrow
I will wake up and find a hole in my chest and the whistling of
Sea breeze through the gap and wonder for awhile how could you
Do this to me in my sleep. I might just not brush my teeth.
I might just go back to sleep, or stay in bed tracing the hole
Feeling the clean edges of the missing piece. I feel scooped 
Out like a coconut without my flesh. Tomorrow I will 
Not wake up to this pain. It is greedy of me to still choose to fall
Asleep, pressed to the curve of your body like waves nuzzling
Watermarks in the sand. That way I can toss a bottle with a piece of 
My heart and everything I cannot say into the rush of ocean between
Us. For a chance that it might reach you, I will betray the self
That will wake up tomorrow with the burden of heaving off the
Sleep and walking around on knives’ edge – Ariel’s legs – and 
I will be mute from the pain. I will be missing you again.