sometimes when I drink wiskey
i swear I can hear your court in the creases of my bed sheets
& i sleep on the floor.
i still catch myself running over things you've touched the most, looking for the echoes of your finger tips
i practice things i'll never say to you.
i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everythings already been said" how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being chiche"
you know I don't miss you like the sun and the moon, i do not miss you like the tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, but I mis you like a chernobyl swigset missed children.

and rumor has it drowning is like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach & I never paid much attention to an abandoned building until i became one