I had finally let go of you
when I realized that you weren't coming back again.

The way i ask people
to hang out is kind of
predatory, if this were an
act in two parts, you
would see all of my
acquaintances board
a carousel, and then
watch me grasp at
their clothes as
they flew past
on their steeds
the camera
film would
shutter across
my face, and
a pair of arms
stuck out like
prongs or jaws
or claws or pincers


trying to catch on.

catch on?

I think if someone would tell me to
stop
romanticising the past,
my mind would finally find a moment
to breathe and heave.

I'm sure he's not how I remember him.
I'm sure he's never been that amazing in his life.
I know this and still.
That's how I remember him.

i touched the sweetest parts of you,
now i have cavities where you should be holding me together.
you asked me about it yesterday in a desperate whisper for a substance replacement.
you need me when you need something else.
i can't be your snow white sweetness, your black tar bride.
being a passing part of you has left me rotting from the inside out.
i could take care of it, but i'd rather feel your absence than nothing at all.

sometimes
i can see
myself
folding
in, they
say wear
your heart
on your sleeve
but I wear it in
my voice and
she so often
hides away
and gets
lost
sometimes
I even send
her away in
letters and
she takes all
the words with
her.

rolling through the
waves, beaten by
the undercurrent
blend in with the
black and blue, make
myself a bruise, let the
echo fill me up, a wavering
sonata in between the grains
of sand that chafe against my
cheeks, thrown like a strand
of algae, swept between
the coral castles, the
fish whisper that
it will be alright
but I have heard
that somewhere
before.

sometimes if
you linger long
enough, i can
still feel you
even after you've
gone, i can still
feel you,
i can still

sometimes I
still taste you
on my breath.