My memories flash in shades of amber
golden hour light
an infinite dusk
in moments of silence
but just as quickly
fade to the present
where I'm sick to my stomach
because I think I'm broken.
Something always feels so wrong
and I'm scared
of how this is going to end,
inevitably.
I try to not get too attached,
but a hundred miles away,
you can't see
the mess I am without you.

I know you're telling me the truth
when you say it's okay,
but I hope you still stay
when it's my fourth day in a row
without showering
and my third day stuck in bed
with two bloodshot eyes
and one brain cell left,
out of focus and underwhelming.
Another weekend ends
and you have to go home again.
Each time you leave, I pray
that you're not
leaving for good.