I can see the pain breaking through his porcelain shell and billowing out of his lips. Now he's lying with his back against the cold tile floor & his arms wrapped around his stomach just to soothe the empty void growing beneath his skin. I breathe his name in my sleep. I dream about him behind the steering wheel, the reflection of his shoulders unfolding in the rear view. We exhale a layer of smoke into the lifeless air that hangs over my bed. I can feel my lungs giving in & leaning tiredly against my rib cage. He does the same & it makes my entire body ache. Have you ever thought about how much you missed someone while lying in their arms? The vacancy in his voice shatters the flood gates behind my eyes. I'm crushed by the blankness of his stare. I remember watching his face morph into a playground when he was laughing out loud, but no pill can resurrect that expression now. All that's left are twisted veins, and worn out organs floating in a sea of champagne. I rest here, waiting for the day they sink & he gets dragged away. I spent 18 years as a calendar hung between a set of revolving doors, apathetically watching people come and go with every season that changed beneath my feet but he unhooked me from that place and whispered life into my ear every night. Now I'm looking at his shaking hands, a light shade of blue & every inch of me is weakened by the knowledge that it's his turn to walk back through.