I bought you the last meal we’ll ever share together, a far cry from all the other food pressed between our lips.
quietly shuffling damp twenties from my pocket amidst your insistence to proceed otherwise
three months and twenty two days shy of our anniversary I don’t have the kind of money you’d like me to my bank account is empty and hemorrhaging a nine hundred dollar debt to you. you’re flicking silver cards between your fingertips tongue like gravel all I’ve got is cash
the day I leave you, I lie in bed naked alternating my excursions between brushing my teeth and ******* sometimes both, at the same time like I’m cleansing the filth from all my crevices clearing out the decay and rot
It’s poetic to think of your absence like the gap left after a rotting tooth pungent and expectant but in reality clearing my bowels or the spaces between my molars makes no difference to the dark cavern that lives inside me
a space with no sharp corners or dead ends but an endless death
one I know too well and spent too many wet nights trying to force upon you
alone in the dust and clatter I succumb to it unable to distinguish between the sore of an infection and the sear of a wound