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.