This is not how things were supposed to be.

It started so simply,
quite earnestly,
so honestly.

This is not what I planned for us.

It came very swiftly,
so silently,
quite lethally.

We never stood a chance.

If words were money,
we'd be rich.

I'd buy us a future.

If promises were heavy,
we'd never fly.

I know we will never fly.

I cannot recall
what it's like
to not
love
you.

I am pressed between
the weight of your breath
and the sighs in my spine.

I am gripping a hand
that feels more like my own
than another's.

I am staring behind closed eyelids.
I am panting inside collapsed lungs.

Never before have I spread myself
so thinly
across foreign sheets.

Never before have I been so full;
never before have I been so thin.

I basked in the idea of our infinence,
all the while knowing that it never stood a chance.
While I may be a fool for believing,
I would have been a coward for not.
And it was,
ultimately,
more than I could have ever asked for.
But then,
suddenly,
it was all I was asking for.

It is all I am asking for.

And she'll take her frozen finger
and send it down
to find the sources of her quiet sound,
the cold and shaky embodiment of her state of mind.

Because she hates what she is,
inside and out.
She looks everywhere
for a piece of beauty that she will never find.

"There's so much ugly in this world."

Here. Have a little more.

Rehabilitate. Relapse. Regret.
Remember. Regress.
Reject.
Reject.
Reject.
Rehabilitate. Relapse. Regret.
Remember. Reflect. Respond.
Reject. Reject. Reject.
Rest.
Reflect.
Rehabilitate. Relapse. Rehabilitate. Relapse.
Regret.
Regret.
Regret.
Realize.

Repeat.

I am a fixture.

I am a body
whose frigid fingers
feel the nape of your neck.

I am a picture
that is only seen
(and never heard),
that makes the space prettier
with my paralyzed presence.

I am a pair of eyes that reflect light,
I am a pair of ears that hold your voice,
I am a nose that pulls your sweet scent from the air
and in doing so,
I make you real.

But I am not.
I am,
simply,
a fixture.