Stir yourself awake,
be sensible of the intake of breaths.
Those breaths propel you up from rest when tangles try to pull you back under.
Feel the weakness in your knees while you wobble in the shower?
Do you feel the drowse cracking from your bones,
rippling feeling through your nerves?
It means you're alive.

Somewhere in there
is a ghost of you I once loved.
A ghost whose wisps are still floating around somewhere inside me.
You aren’t that girl I loved anymore,
that girl had a cuter laugh.
Those who still bring up your name around me talk about a girl
whose name was a string of letters that had flesh and heart
and one hell of a smile.
But
Now it’s just ink and curls, dots and swirls.
You aren’t her anymore, which is a good thing,
because if you were, that wisp that still sits on the back porch of my heart
would grab enough strength to leak into my brain and slip by any rational thought
that’d tell me not to call you. Not that I still have your number,
But that wisp would scoop through memories until it found it
and force it into waking thought.
I’d call you,
and that wisp would turn into a thick smog,
billowing clouds and bulbous puffs
Sitting on every nerve
and gaining density until it settled thick,
so every view and breathy word
would remind me of you.
It’d become a lovely fume,
Stitching together old cracks in my heart you made,
and convince me you didn’t.
I would not feel stupid about losing my breath
when I’d hear your voice on the other end,
and I would not give a **** that I’d be ruining years of seperation
because I remembered a wisp sits  on the back porch of my heart
that reminded me of the girl I used to love.

I **** you
Crush you
Grind every last bone
To add to my tea ... yet
You resurrect


You **** me
Feast on me
**** the marrow from my bones
To feed your hunger ... yet
I resurrect


And the cycle continues
The story repeats
How many deaths must love endure before it's deemed worthy of peace