I can still feel the bass from your music
vibrate deep within my hollow ribcage
where my heart used to beat.

Sometimes I pretend that your lips
are pressed hard against my collar bones
wishing me well again.

Other times, I dream that your caramel
colored eyes are staring back into mine
with such lifelike severity, that even you
can't remember why you broke up with me.

As selfish as I felt it was,
in the beginning I couldn't understand,
how much he had changed in the time
I knew him and that I didn't want
our time together to end.

Two years later and I'm here,
and I'm able to rethink about the past.
The recollection isn't as hazy
and the memories are less painful
when I can see the picture being painted
in a whole new light.

He let me go because he was unable
to give me the things I needed.
For that, he was doing me a favor,
letting me go so I could find someone
to love me the way I needed to be.

Sometimes I look back on those memories
and they feel more painful than right now.
But at least I can appreciate that
over time, I was able to see he was more
sorry than I once believed him to be.

Everything was black and wet,
there were bubbles,
the field was boiling.
Through the windows,
you'd just sink into it.
"Loosen up," the lake echoed,
"I'm sure as hell not going anywhere."
A flat-crested hill seemed to dance,
mountains unfolding into higher places
and looking over the lake.
The place was in sorry shape,
plain and simple.

The last time we made love is smeared
on my pedestal sink in the form
of my ruby red lipstick, and eyeliner
in the shape of a misguided arrow
resembling your pale purple veins.

Sometimes my dreams take me back
to that moment, wondering at what point
you decided that love was no longer enough
to keep yourself attached to the moments
we were sharing together. If at all.