Thanks for giving up on me.
you fold the shirt
just the same as
you fold back the sheets
when you are next to me.
the clock moves
with your every move
as you zip your things away;
lock them in a place
that i can’t reach.
you tuck away the tickets
in your pockets
without moving your lips.
I know I’m strong, but I can feel very weak.
Why can’t things just be simple as a two minute drive.
I’m tired of feeling far away from the one person my heart shares closeness with.
I never want to lose this but I don’t know what to do anymore.
I’m at the point where I can’t live without you.
late night drive back to your house
day I spent laying in bed thinking of you while you were gone
warmth of your back on my cold hands
silence of our steady breathing
time we crawled through the orchards
bruises on our necks
night we lay by the candlelight
kisses that made me weak at the knees
day we spent by the river
spots in the city we left our footprints
final kiss goodbye
It’s morning. I awaken in a dark white room. The sky is sad today. She consumes the earth with her loss. And for those sitting in their quiet comfortable homes, equipped with the aroma of morning after coffee and Sunday print times, seek comfort in her sadness. And it is for them, that she cries.
I stare at the emptiness and
the emptiness stares back at me.
And then, it happens once more.
And you’re .
after 36 days apart
will bring me to you.
Don’t read this.