It's said that it takes seven years for your body to replace its cells.
Memories die.
They wither away;
become unexplained hints of familiarity in a stranger's face.
Scars are replaced by renewed skin. Bruises disappear, erased as though by magic.
My body is a eulogy for your touch.
You were a merciless lover. You scratched your name into my skin. Your teethmarks are still imprinted on my tongue. The bruises, around my throat.
"Here lies he who commands my breath".
My lungs are still learning to forgive you. My muscles are still learning to forget you.
It's been four months and two weeks. I can feel the ghost of you restless, haunting my flesh. It wails at night and I still cry myself to sleep,
longing for dead things to remain dead.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
It's said that it takes seven years for your body to replace its cells.
Memories die.
They wither away;
become unexplained hints of familiarity in a stranger's face.
Scars are replaced by renewed skin. Bruises disappear, erased as though by magic.
My body is a eulogy for your touch.
You were a merciless lover. You scratched your name into my skin. Your teethmarks are still imprinted on my tongue. The bruises, around my throat.
"Here lies he who commands my breath".
My lungs are still learning to forgive you. My muscles are still learning to forget you.
It's been four months and two weeks. I can feel the ghost of you restless, haunting my flesh. It wails at night and I still cry myself to sleep,
longing for dead things to remain dead.
