it’s feeling colder.
                                        outside
my window.
          inside
these              sheets.

The steam of the fever dream
we      w      a       e
                e       v      d
together is
           s e t t l i n g
on the rug like morning dew.

It’s heavy air gets
    stuck
   inside
     m y
   throat
each time i try to
swallow back a memory.

But still I
              r i  s e
        . l i k e  t h e .
sun, brighter every day.


Making way for oceans
                            ~~~~~~
                       ­     ~~~~~~~~
                           ~~~~~~~~~~
where there once were
                                         deserts
between my arms,
my lips, my legs.

Brushing into piles:

          the sand
        you dragged
    in with your boots,                  the
                                     ­              dried up
        the                                  flower petals,
  parts of me
you left behind.
    

like    *****   laundry.
    inside my room.
    inside my heart.