wine and cheap perfume

Her tattoos punctuate the planes of her skin like cartoon exclamation points. I loved waking up and gazing at her body every morning as she slept, generally with her mouth open and her little feet poking out of the covers at the foot of the bed. I could do it for hours. I moved to a city I knew nothing about to be by her side. I told her things I never told anyone. She taught me so much about how to live and the importance of persevering in the face of excruciating adversity. She's my hero, and my best friend, my heart, my family, outrageously hot, and I love her with every fiber of my being.
I feel hollow. Like one of those huge chocolate Easter bunnies where you initially think it's solid chocolate, but then you realize that it's actually about one tenth of an ounce of chocolate cause it's not only hollow, it's also really flimsy and thin. That was a roundabout way of me letting you know that I'm really thin. We spent all day yesterday getting drunk together and talking and laughing and crying and she kept calling me "my love," which is what we've always called each other, and I can't tell if I should maintain hope or try to forget her completely, if it was just an old habit that she hasn't quite shaken yet or a sign that she still loves me but just needs time. I don't know.