21:00. Almost 24 hours later.
I empty.
I have dragged it all day.
Letting it sweat out of my pores. (I hoped).
Spilling onto glassy onlookers on the motorway.
Burrowing holes within my skull.
Are you wearing jewellery?
Replaying your height in your mind?
Thinking of showers and churches?
Do you miss the long silence between carefully constructed words at 4am?
Are you morally superior?
I am.
Have the clocks ceased to chime for her?
Have you been fucking her in the car? On the kitchen table?
Maybe one day.
You are a Fred Perry polo and a cord skirt.
You are a PEOPLE MAKE GLASGOW pin.
When can I put in a period?
You made me start writing again.
Made me start cutting again.
Correction - I did.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
I love you.
I love you too.
Read: 04:02.