I don't think anyone has ever looked at me
like you do, before.

I found myself barely breathing
on the bathroom floor with no one around,
except the guy downstairs who I
realised I love,
even though I told myself
never to love again.
Maybe this time,
my veins will stay closed
and my lungs will have air.
Maybe this time,
loving him won't turn wrong.

Six months ago I was a ******* mess,
my lungs ran out of air,
I couldn't breathe, let alone sleep
and I regretted not listening
to my therapist,
when she told me
"don't fall in love."

You remind me
of summer,
and every cigarette
I light,
holds your breath
in between my teeth.
Your body holds planets
I thought I couldn't reach
and your eyes contain
thousands of stars.
And every time I touch you,
I feel the galaxy
underneath
your skin.

It's 3am and I can still feel
your collarbone underneath
my fingertips, I can still feel
your calloused hand in mine
and I can still taste the
***** - in my lungs and on
your lips.
I can still hear the way
your words fell together,
and I can still hear you telling me
you love me.
I can still feel your body
against mine, your fingers touching
my skin,
your voice soft in my ear.
I can still feel the way
your teeth dug into my neck,
my skin,
leaving a mark to remind me
of you while I sleep alone,
in a bed too big for just one person
in a bed too cold without your warmth
in a bed too silent without your
uninterrupted breathing
while you're sleeping.
I can't seem to sleep if
you're not holding me
and I'm still trying to decide
whether I'm too far in or if
I just can't get out -
get out of the depths of your eyes,
the warmth of your body,
the rhythm of your words.
I guess I just don't want
to leave you behind.

He didn't love me
but he ****** me,
tried to leave his mark on my neck
and now every time I smoke
I can smell it on his breath.
I can feel his fingernails scraping
down
my
back
when he turns around, says I'm nothing more
than a pretty *****,
and laughs.

First drops of sunlight
that shines across your body,
where you lay asleep on
your side of the dishevelled bed.
This coffee tastes
as bitter as you were last night
but this cigarette smoke tastes like
the one we shared at
3am this morning.
The alcohol seeping
through my veins
reminds me of how you
infected me with your poison
when we first met.
Your name is on the tip of my tongue
and your breath is caught in the middle of my lungs
just like it was four hours ago
when your body was on top of mine
and you were burning me with your touch
Your scent still hangs around me
in a cloud of ****,
lynx
and ***.
And the ghost of your hand in mine seems almost real
that I forget you are no longer holding it.
Your kiss still lingers on my lips
like the teeth marks you left on my neck
and the scratches down my back.
Your words still ring in my ears
and my memory decides to play me a slideshow
of every image I have of you -
this will be a long night, yet it is barely even mid day.
The air is cold, colder than you
and you don't hold me anymore.
Every breathe I take will not be
because of you,
every cigarette will not have
the trace of your lips,
yet my body will still remain with
the touch of your fingertips,
a maze of marks and bruises,
a labyrinth of complications
and desires.

I think
you're still burning
in my lungs.
I think
your hands are
still
tracing my skin.
And I don't think
you are ever
coming
back.