i bet he couldn’t even tell you what i used to taste like, only to contemplate it for a mere moment when he was asked; i remember the warmth of his mouth on my skin and in my hair. but he won’t linger on the thought for more than a few passing seconds, and the thought will slip his mind for good.

i’ve been careful to only show the good sides i’ve found in myself; little rays of beaming light through my eyes and a glow cascading from my fingertips. i’m careful to let him know if he dare intrude that i’m doing well without him. since he severed the stitches bonding pieces of me to him i’ve found joy in simplicity.

it’s 8:42 and i’ve been waiting for the rain for a couple of hours. i was sitting on the stoop outside of my room, nicotine hot in my lungs when i noticed the wind shifting and the birds reacting to it. it seems as all they know is wind. i’ve been hoping for cooler weather to simmer my tantrums when waiting games get frustrating. it never rains enough.

halfway through a new book, i found myself tangled in with the narrator as she struggles to distinguish real love from poems and metaphors. i loved you as an ocean and a moon and it got swept up in the tide. as a star in a galaxy not my own. i’ll love the next one like an old friend; like something familiar and lingering without a bother to my space and time.

tomorrow i’ll be sleeping as a test subject; my brain left a canvas of what my body is willing to portray. i’ll likely run into him in a dream, held captive to my own head. i’m tired of sleeping.

i’m always just so tired.