I'm stuck in a black hole, itching to escape.
Your eyes are the center, tugging, pulling, holding me in.
I thought I could handle the lack of change:
Continuing to fall asleep on the phone,
Drifting into unconsciousness to the sound of your voice;
Reading to me in the dark.
An inhale of smoke, easing my stress
As eighties music plays inside with us on the back porch.
I thought I'd found a wormhole,
An ability to continue living this identical life to when you were once
...
mine.
But there is no wormhole to a broken heart.