Everyone I’ve ever loved has peeled their lips a little too much and been left with blood running down to their chin.
I picked up some of your habits and have held them longer than I ever held you.
Between the blood and tears dripping off my chin in a reality you thought you would never reconcile with words you lay, telling me, woven in secrecy between gasps, that everything had fallen into place.

Everyone before you tasted like practice and I now realize that’s what you thought of me.