i can still taste the cigarettes on your breath,
my lips glued to the bottle. it was a new taste
to drown in. i didn't know you would be my river.
now i'm dried up, you left nothing behind
except your fingers that traced against my skin,
the skin you said was delicate as a flower because i
bruised so easily, the skin you said you would kiss
but my bruises have multiplied and join into into constellations
on my legs
and the memories of you are distant, but never will be
cloudy
and i always longed for you to show me what was worthy in the
cosmos, and manifest a sweet disposition to the flowers in my
brain
but i learned that though i am broken, i can still grow
because i know my soul is not to blame, but the anatomy
of his flooded judgment
makes me question why i ever let another being
sink inside me
i wish i never breathed you in