one, i cannot breathe. my lungs are inhaling and exhaling but i am not breathing. your name still echoes inside my chest like a balloon that is slowly losing air and i cannot breathe.

two, her name is a red solo cup and a midnight conversation. she is a dare that your friends jokingly made and with the buzz of alcohol in your chest, you said yes

[three, they told me at your funeral that it was only a joke, this wasn't meant to happen, guilt was on their faces and the sky was an odd color of both death and sadness, i cannot decide what is worse; the feeling of the rough thorns that poke my legs or the silent promise you made me that will never be fulfilled]

four, the taste of white wine reminds me of your pale skin and the glass that touches my hips when i inevitable drop the bottle does not feel like anything, i am not numb; i can still taste the heaviness of 2:35 am wine without you on my lips but i am not sad either, it is more like an unleashed phantom that haunts my mind when i try to sleep at night

five, the police came over to my house last week, they asked me if i had anything to do with your lover; i cannot remember the words that i told them all i know is the sound of the heavy door being closed and the bitter taste of sour strawberries that come when i keep biting my cheeks to stop from crying, i've been crying too much lately and i'm sick of it.

six, i tried to visit her yesterday. i tried to bring myself to get lost in the feeling of her smoke that clouded my mind and i tried to understand why you did this. why you loved her more than you loved me, why her dizzying scent was more of a safe haven than my all consuming love for you.

seven, i visited your dealer today, i asked him if you had told him anything about why you were so sad but he didn't say anything, or at least i don't remember it. all i remember is the ringing in my ears when i walked home that night and the traffic lights of new york city. i was alive today, in a way i never have been, i couldn't breathe but i didn't need to.

eight, tomorrow i will clean out the rest of your things in our closet and i will visit our old coffee shop and try not to focus on how i am not breathing without you anymore, because unconsciously i know i always will; that was always the difference between you and i, you smoked to get lost but i kept on drowning because i was already found

(h.l.)

it took
the smell
of coffee grounds
and smokey burnt wood
13 days
to finally escape
from the thick fabrics
of my favorite sweatpants
and I promised myself
I'd never let you
burrow away
into the deepest parts
of me
just to keep warm;
23 nights from November
and I'm still digging you out
from underneath my skin.
and that Sunday night
at 12:37 AM;
remnants of
melted rouge kisses
overflowed
from the surface
of the birthmark
on your left shoulder-blade
when I traveled across
the terrains
of every inch
of your back
with my bottom lip;
sweeter
than the sugarcanes in my tea
sending chills
up every bone
in my body
and I knew you
had finally found your home
for the winter.





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