i remember that three-word-lie you used to tell me all the time about how the sun would rise inside my eyes and that your skin and bones were mine
and i still know a secret or two somewhere callused into the deepest pockets of my mind but digging out any remnants of you will pile up the dirt which will eventually fill my grave and snap my spine
i've scraped all the plaque from my heart and teeth and placed it into a box to keep labeled "don't peek" but if you do i won't stay mad at you
there was a day when we were walking through the thickest rain and our clothes grew so heavy it was nearly impossible to keep them from falling off of our drenched bodies and i felt happier in that moment than i ever wanted to
the thoughts of our yesterdays choke me in my dreams and all i want to do is sleep under your bed and collect dust in my lungs