i loved
you in
pajamas
and royals
shirts, black lungs
and black tongues and
windy mornings heading
to the train while you pulled
me along behind yourself in a
fury of cigarette smoke and sea
water stored in your fingers
i never expected us to be
anything to be apple pie
and an i love you from
your mouth in your
grandma's living
room i was
content with the
bit of you in chicago
i had swished between
my teeth i did not want
those coffee shop
goodbyes
i did not want those
coffee shop goodbyes

Mommy always said
I had expensive taste
I guess that's why
your champagne skin
left me drunk
with the empty bottle dangling from my limp fingers.
I must ask,
do you think of me still?
Cover your lips with
honey
before you answer;
sugarcoat it as best you can.
43
tiring days later
and I have yet to master
being able to say your name
under a relaxed jaw.
I wonder if this will get
any easier
to accept; until then,
cheers
to those intoxicating bubbles
soaking up
in your bones' winter quilt.
I'll leave you a glass on the table.



Copyright ©  2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved

I can finally look at myself
in the mirror without your figure
standing behind me observing
my every detail and every flaw.

I'm thankful to say I have
moved on from you entirely
and that your presence no longer
intimidates my inner being.