When will I become better.

Your face still haunts the halls of my mind, and creeps into my dreams. Your absence still doesn't feel right, because our dreams and future is but a void you left. Your contact is still on my phone. Your name still surrounded in hearts. Your very breath, that you breathed into my lungs with every tender kiss still gales in my breast. Your essence carved into my ribs, that hold your clothes to dry. Your second home is deep inside this body of mine. Your voice has lost it's echo, but not it's feeling. It isn't as clear, but it can be heard faintly. Im scared to lose the sound of it. I want to hear you again. But, only ringing it will bring to my ears. Only pain will come with your touch. Only sorrow will come with your presence. It's a curse that God has torn us. It only becomes worse before it gets better. When will it become better.