I couldn't tell you what the day is. Its been months, and my shirt has lost your scent . I buried myself face down inside of what used to comfort me. Seas of bedding, nylon, and saline. On nights, I'd watch paired laughter and lust build in front of me, until one. I had to do it. I couldn't bare the silent part of my ear anymore, louder than even my own thoughts. I just needed to hear your voice. I rode those lines all the way to your bedroom, you're first syllable kissed my lips and I shivered for any following. In the center of an empty room, I laid, listening to your soft words in their soft tone, painting trees for seasons, because you knew them all. All I wanted to do was wrap you up within my flesh and bones, because you were already my blood, and I remember tearing it from my knuckles for a quick fix of addiction. I held onto the static before the sounds of the line being severed. And then you were yesterday, like any piece of you that was ever me.