The distance melts my heart and I'm crying your absence in oceans tonight.  The salt burns my face more than usual as I remember choking on water, hoping it would buy us more time to say I love you before we drowned.

I close my eyes and remember watching the sky with you when everything was moving too fast.
It made me believe that time stood still.

I find myself leaving the window open for you or the stray cats,
and jump whenever the wind whispers something
that sounds like my name.

You're gone and far away,
but can I still call you baby on Sunday mornings?

"Sit up and drink your coffee,
I'll be your saviour and we wont have to go to church today"

I warmly say to the vacant space in my bed.
I still see you sipping your coffee
pretending I put in enough sugar
and sometimes I catch myself setting out two mugs before work,
pretending you're still here.

It's another Sunday morning and I'm sitting in church.
I imagine God speaking to you -
When he speaks, you buckle at the knee's
as he proclaims

"she wants you. You are gone and far away but when you look up at the sky you think of her and it seems hard, buts its simple"

she wants you.

Today I prayed that you'll never go deaf.

Six Sunday's have past since I've gone to church,
and I'm sitting on your side of the bed this morning.
I hear you mockingly whisper into my ear..

"sit up and drink your coffee love, I'll be your saviour and you wont have to go to church today"

I squeeze my mug so tightly that it shatters into 365 pieces, a shard for each day of the year you lied to me. It burns and bleeds and God is laughing at the symbolism of the self inflicted pain derived from not knowing how to let go.

it's been six Sunday's since I've heard my own voice and from the day you left I've stayed awake at night counting the thousand different ways our lips touched, and how this was our way of talking
about things you can't describe with words.
But now I can hardly speak through these water logged lungs.
I try to cuss but I don't recognise my voice unless its singing your name, we spoke a language of our own but you left and cut my tongue out along with my heart and every ****** Sunday I hear God screaming,

"ARE THEY GENTLE WITH YOU? DO THEY TAKE THE TIME TO COUNT YOUR FRECKLES OUT LOUD AND NAME THEM? HAVE THEY WATCHED YOU CRY. HAVE THEY HEARD YOU SPEAK? can you hear yourself speak?      

I look over to that infamous vacancy in my bed and whisper something that sounds like an obituary

"they want to make love
but I have to replace it by holding hands while taking drugs
and I think they know where I go every time
I think they see your face in my eyes,
but they know better than to ask what's on my mind
because they know ill lose the breath from my lungs.."

*they know you are my mother tongue.

I dreamt of you nearly every night this week
and I'm searching for the difference between love and manipulation.
I dreamt of you while his arms were around my waist and as he kissed the nape of my neck I wondered if there was any difference
between missing you and loving him.
When I was trying to quit smoking
we drank red wine from coffee  mugs,
I called your green eyes celery
and you called my freckles coco powder.
You laughed as the red wine stained my teeth and I laughed because
it wasn't wine.
I'm thousands of miles from where you are now,
trying to be a grown up who spends her money wisely
and drinks wine from a stemmed glass.
I'm cooking your favorite meals,
I can't help but forget that I hate roast beef.
I'm tired of these wine glasses
and I can't find any coffee mugs to chip my teeth on.
I miss drinking out of them on Sunday mornings,
pretending it was coffee,
my freckles were coco powder,
your green eyes were celery,
pretending,
pretending,
pretending,
until we believed.
I keep saying under my breath not to think about you,
but I can't help but wonder what you're wearing today.
or if I miss you,
or if I hate you,
or if I've gone insane.
I dreamt of kissing you so passionately that the world around us disappeared and as I kissed you everything made sense, I think.
As I kissed you I played connect the dots.
I woke up and wondered if there was a difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul.
I've been smoking a lot
but not nearly as much as I hear your name in the dark,
as much as I see your silhouette in front of the TV,
or feel your hands under the sheets.
I woke up this morning hating you
wishing I could love him with all that I have
but I've woken up and realized
that there is no difference between love and manipulation,
you have me in a choke hold
and I can't help but wonder what it feels like to breath
All I feel is suffocation,
my hands are cold as ice,
your favorite color has always been blue,
are you connecting the dots?
I've stopped drinking.
red wine.
I've stopped eating.
celery.
I've learned that love is an organic thing.
it deteriorates.
it softens.
it rots.

[Ive been smoking a lot
and im starting to doubt
if im breathing you in
or smoking you out]

most nights I miss you
but im no longer sure
if the pain that I feel
can ever be cured

its hard to explain what its like to be numb
but its poisoned my mind
like the smoke in my lungs

now my burdens are heavy
they're breaking my bones
its weighing me down
to know im alone

but this sadness is comfortable
and I know what to do
ill collapse into it
like I collapsed into you

Ill let it consume me
and the thoughts in my head
to try and forget
the words that you said

but no matter hard I try
to wash you away
I see smudges of you
on me everyday

[and now I lay like you once did in my bed-
I lie like you
Im lost in your head]