Can't kill myself so writing shitty poems

I can't and won't kill myself even though the end of my marriage still feels like living in hell. I've been writing shit poems but I shouldn't and don't send them to her because what would it do? Nothing and that'd make it all even worse. Anyway here's one. Sorry for posting this fuckin garbage but I have to get this pain pitside myself somehow.

Remember

when we kissed

in Heathrow Airport

the day we met

and in my car by the side of the river

right before my mother went mad

and when we were lost and searching

for that New Years' Party

in the rain

and below the bridge in Mostar

which is still in a photograph

you've moved into the utility room

and remember

when we kissed

at the altar

under the sun

and we'd chosen the place because

we'd seen those two deer

leaping together

and

when you found out you

were pregnant

while we were

hungover

and

when you found out you

were pregnant again

while we were

ships passing

and remember

when we kissed

Good Night

every night

for fifteen years

And now

all I want

even still

laying awake

my heart a dying star

is to kiss you again

to have fifty

no

a hundred and fifty

no

a thousand lines

in this poem

of all the times

we would have kissed

it'd have been

enough to fill

a book

enough to fill

a life

I wish I could stop

loving you

or that I could

die

but it is what it is

which is what we say

no help at all