I lay on her sofa
Eyes closed
Not sleeping
Gently waiting for her to be finished with her post-evening necessities
Water
Food
Checking her emails.
I smiled to myself,
With each wet chew of her bagel
Each soft sound of her tongue moving in that beautiful mouth
I imagined I was the bread
and she was eating me alive.

Why do I want to eat things that make me feel sick
Like a confused dog.
Why do I still want you when it hurts me like this

I went bed shopping with my mother
Watched her touch the fabrics and shake them out
Imagining how they’d keep her warm in her settled life.
And all I could think about was you
And how I was in your bed
And the furniture in your room
And the smell of your neck
And how I wished I could have made a room
Beautiful enough that you’d want to stay in it.

What am I supposed to do with myself
now that I don't even have the promise of you?
I need to be fed.

I don't know what to do with all my thoughts
Now that I can't let them be about you.

I’ll be ok

The vapours of her will leave my body soon

Because that’s all they ever where

Vapours.

In the optimistic light of the morning,
or when I’m travelling somewhere, fast,
perhaps on a plane or a train,
everything seems ok.
Caring so much seems silly, and I feel released.
Healing and carrying on with life seems not only possible but natural, inevitable.