it’s feeling colder.
outside
my window.
inside
these sheets.
The steam of the fever dream
we w a e
e v d
together is
s e t t l i n g
on the rug like morning dew.
It’s heavy air gets
stuck
inside
m y
throat
each time i try to
swallow back a memory.
But still I
r i s e
. l i k e t h e .
sun, brighter every day.
Making way for oceans
~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~
where there once were
deserts
between my arms,
my lips, my legs.
Brushing into piles:
the sand
you dragged
in with your boots, the
dried up
the flower petals,
parts of me
you left behind.
like ***** laundry.
inside my room.
inside my heart.
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 2:10 PM UTC
it’s feeling colder.
outside
my window.
inside
these sheets.
The steam of the fever dream
we w a e
e v d
together is
s e t t l i n g
on the rug like morning dew.
It’s heavy air gets
stuck
inside
m y
throat
each time i try to
swallow back a memory.
But still I
r i s e
. l i k e t h e .
sun, brighter every day.
Making way for oceans
~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~
where there once were
deserts
between my arms,
my lips, my legs.
Brushing into piles:
the sand
you dragged
in with your boots, the
dried up
the flower petals,
parts of me
you left behind.
like ***** laundry.
inside my room.
inside my heart.