I was finally getting better

I was finally getting better. I wasn't crying every night when I couldn't feel your warmth. I wasn't fighting the urge to message you. I could finally listen to the song that reminds me of you. I was doing better. so why? why did you message me? why did you make me miss you all over again, make the pain become new? why, love? why do you make me suffer when you know that the pain of losing your love was enough to make me lose myself? I was finally getting better. I was finally getting better. . . . .