I await at the bridge of your nose
for you to kiss me.
I await at the nape of your neck
to feel the chills down your spine.
I have become accustomed to lonely,
even by your side.
I await the days to burn away
so loosely and never-ending.
I await for the bruises upon my mind
from trying to run away from my mistakes
to become temporary.
I burn and burn and burn away like those days
and I begin to feel the heat from where I lay.
Loose against the grain-
I am like the gravel amongst your feet
clinging to the soles of your shoes wherever you go
etched into your scraped knee as a child
bleeding and broken skin-
I am like the gravel always fleeting-
always in need of reparation
being made of stone and not just one particular kind
I am forever changing in size and faulting
when the lines become etched with tire tracks
I am the space in-between your fingers
lingering for the air to stop flowing through them.
I am your morning coffee-
even though you know how bad you should let go of me
you remember how it feels without me when you wake up
so you have to get another cup.
I am the window pain of your childhood summer camp-
caked with dead flies and the smell of pine
and the memory of the kid you once were.
I am pieces and faults and scars and addiction-
you tell yourself to stay away
even though in the morning you know you won't listen.
The air fades from between those fingers-
and the nape of your neck meets to have dinner
with the chill running down your spine
like it's late for a final exam.
You are anxiety-ridden and all determined
and I am the stone pebbles at your feet
patiently awaiting the return of your shoes
so I can be carried home.