It's been a long month
since you walked o u t
my door with nothing
but the remnants of my
h   /   e   /   a   /   r    /  t
—
I can still *  taste  * you at
the back of my throat and
I am still having  {trouble}
swallowing your absence.
But isn't that the most ironic
thing, love?
—
The reason I cannot breathe
is because you're not there
to take my breath  ~  away.

gd