This taste in my mouth reminds me too much of the eagerness that would drip out every time I tried to talk to you. My eyes are heavy the way they got that night in the dark, with shadows pressed against them like your fingertips on my body. I have to take a deep breath. I have to breathe in the fall, and the leaves, and the frigid air just to know that I am not there anymore. I just want to close my eyes but they won’t let me see anything but the scars on the inside of my brain that were left there, sliced by fishing hooks. All the remnants of the words you caught me with; hook, line and sinker.