Some last spams
from those muscles
I haven't used in a while,
makes me feel alive.

My heart,
naive,
believes it can still love
like it used to.
It is just that ****
muscle memory.

Your words hit me.
Hurt me.
But no longer
pierce me.
Short range
now they are.

My denatured  enzymes,
possessed by salt,
just want to drown.

Anything that stops
the aftershocks in my body
that follow the earthquake
our love once was.