i swear to god our second-hand smoke
came to life that night,
yes. i am personifying the fumes
that crawled in your lungs and back out again.
"power couple." ha
my mouth is a loaded gun, i've always had ****** aim.
is that why i've spent so long
trying to avoid bullets?
is it why i began gently touching objects
that were the same shade as your eyes?
maybe the bark we carved into,
the coffee we sipped in our best months
the places we met became cathedrals and
every love letter was an obituary,
i kept sipping the sunrise until i was fully convinced
i didn't love you anymore
i self identified with the dust
collected on your top shelf,
you loved books but what about me?
maybe that's all i was,
forgotten particles you choked on from
time to time
just maybe, we were, the mantra between
dark and light. you told me
i smelled good, like "home,"
really it was just the sting of cigarettes
and maybe i got too wasted
off early mornings
to remember we were just the mountain of issues
god swept under the rug,
the half-finished mixtape
with your initials as the title, you've
never heard