the leather in my mouth speaks more truth than you.
i woke up clear headed, fresh as a ripe strawberry.
but the taste of you in my mouth repulsed me.
it’s just like you; dry, course and deceptively luxurious.
glimpses came back to me - the way i fit like a puzzle piece with them, and you, from a different picture altogether. the way i knew i was with my people from just a look, while i’ve spent two years trying to feel at home.
at some point i did. it felt like you were my roof, my heat, my cool, my bed. then the cyclone came, and no matter where we moved it was never the same. you just can’t seem to replace the idiosyncrasies of a home like you can a house.
he smiled, knowingly, last night. i tried to hide it but the flame in my stomach was burning my cheeks. to blame the alcohol and heritage was my best bet. but to be safe, i went back inside. and i was greeted with a smile from you, also knowing, but insincere. not the same as the one i fell in love with. or perhaps it was, and i’ve simply moved out. i couldn’t reciprocate, so i just stared at your leather shoes. they kissed your feet like i did once. i worshipped the ground you walked on. until i found that it was not the pavement that made my lips bleed, but the thorns you’d hidden in your skin.
three words. three agonising words. every time you say them i crumble more. so i speak with leather in my mouth, ‘i love you too’. but it has meaning no more. i’ve scuffed it, i’ve weathered it, and you’ve walked the world in it. no polish can heal the damage done.
so i’ll walk into the house, stripped of a roof, observe the empty bed frame and take off my shoes.
it is time for me to move somewhere new.